This chapter was excruciatingly hard for a multitude of reasons and I had a mind to change the entire plot at one point but this is how it is.

Thanks once again to Idcam for the review of the last chapter! Your review makes me so sad really. I am certain this will not go how you think, but I will let you read to find out.

I will say that this is a rather intense chapter, so tread carefully. Do you recall me stating you would probably come to hate me? That time is now.

*WARNINGS* Male on female violence. Excessive use of exclamation points.

The time for the match had come rather swiftly after Heather had left Kevin's locker room. Presently she found herself waiting at the gorilla for their second appearance of the night. She had made it a point to ensure that they arrived on time following their last mishaps of being absent from the brief backstage segment and delayed through the curtain.

Heather was bouncing on her heels. She was always anxious for the segments to conclude as it were, but given the recent events that transpired, she was even more so. Her skin felt prickly and she wanted to crawl out of it again. How she wished this event were over already. Heather had glanced down the corridor several times attempting not to appear conspicuous.

Reves, who was leaning against the wall with her arms folded over her chest fixed her with a sided-eyed stare. "Will you stop spazing out? I mean shit, way to make yourself obvious," Reves grumbled with a roll of her eyes.

"I am not spazing out," Heather countered with more bite than she realized as she forced herself to stop her jittering. "I am simply feeling a great bit of zeal to conclude our evening. You know how much I loathe all of this as it is."

"Riiight," Reves drawled giving her a long look.

This time when Heather glanced down the corridor, her heart leaped in her chest, her breath caught in her lungs and her body jerked involuntarily. There was a collective of men heading towards them, but only one of them could trigger that type of response in her. An overwhelming urge struck her and she nearly shifted into flight mode. Knowing that she could not, she willed herself to remain stationary.

As they approached, she dropped her head to hide the deep blush that overtook her features and expelled a shaky breath.

"Hi Heather," a voice addressed her.

Giving a small start, Heather's head shot to the side. It was Sean. "H-hello," she murmured kindly attempting to focus her attention on him and not the blonde goliath standing next to him.

"Cool shoes. Uh, boots. Whatever," Kid said shyly.

"Oh. Thank you," Heather blushed with a small smile and looked down at her feet.

Kevin watched this exchange with only mild agitation, knowing what Kid wished he could do to her. Fortunately, there was no rage boiling over like before. He had apologized sincerely to Kid for blowing up on him earlier and for all the other times he had been a prick over the last few months. Once he decided to rid himself of the guilt he had been harboring over his feelings for his Little One, it was like a weight being lifted off his shoulder. Ultimately it was far easier to surrender to his heart's desire than to be bound by shame. It was oddly cathartic.

Obviously, Kid would learn about them eventually. It would suck for him, and although it probably made him seem like a dick he wasn't giving up his girl over the possibly fleeting and shallow attraction of his friend. Because truth be told, he had to question whether Kid actually saw her as a person with all her quirks and endearing qualities and not just a collection of orifices to jam his dick into. The very thought was getting him riled again and he knew it was for no damn reason, therefore he willed himself to relax. He was working on it, like everything else.

Kevin would have to accept the fact the Kid may still be vying after her for the next several months as he would have to remain in the dark on this one. The fewer people that knew, the better. He already had Reves up his ass about not hurting her sister. He had divulged everything to Scott because Scott was the closest person in the world to him. And he had an understanding of what he was going through given his brief love affair with the elder Calaway sister. He was certain that Vince had everything on good authority as he revealed in their meeting earlier. It wasn't like Kevin's caught-off-guard reaction stood to prove him wrong. He was also sure Shawn probably had a sneaking suspicion as well.

In a few moments, it would be show time once again. Usually, as the leader, Nash would be towards the front, one of the first to make an entrance. In this instance, he hung back standing next to Heather. She peered up at him bashfully and he winked at her. Her heart fluttered and she bit her lip. He gave a subtle smirk and mouthed a word to her. Heather was never extremely adept at reading lips, but she assumed she received the message: Later.

Although not pressed firmly together there was enough proximity that one of his knuckles grazed the bare flesh of her arm, sending a shiver down her spine.

Glancing behind her, Reves witnessed this exchange through narrowed eyes. She observed them as Lurch winked at her sister with a ridiculous smirk on his stupid face. What the hell was he playing at now? Not an hour ago he had basically insinuated that he was going to continue acting as though her sister didn't exist. Now she saw him subtly reach out to caress her arm in a silent affirmation of affection. That wishy-washy motherfucker. If this was the way he was going to go he better not pussy out again. If he did, their earlier talk would serve as a warning. If it came to that, his nut sack was going to have a very painful Come to Jesus meeting with her steel-toed boot. Making her attention known, Reves glared at the giant idiot, mouth pursed into a thin line.

Kevin saw the blonde mean-mugging him in her usual bitchy manner. He narrowed his eyes at her until she harrumphed and turned forward. He could see she was hardly going to be easier to contend with than Mark. As much as she disdained it, she was certainly her father's daughter.

A stagehand standing nearby let them know they'd be making their entrance in just a few moments. Thank fucking God. Kevin was more than ready to get this bullshit over with. He glanced down at his Little One who looked frazzled with anxiety. He knew she hated being on camera and out there in front of the crowd, but he hoped her anticipation stemmed from their union to come. Sensing his focus on her, she peered up at him bashfully and graced him with her sweet and modest smile.

His dick hardened almost instantly at the sight and he knew he was in a bad way. The giant growled impatiently. He needed this match to be fucking done with. All he could think of was getting to the hotel so he could get his Little One naked. He'd eat her sweet pussy until she was trembling and in tears, begging him to stop. Afterward, he would sink into her warm, tight channel over and over until she was on the verge of passing out. And just when she would think it was finally over, he would do it all again. Yes, he was going to ravish her hot, young body to kingdom come.

Just then, they were given the cue to enter. Knowing he needed to focus on the match Kevin pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind. There would be plenty enough time for that soon enough. As the last ones through the curtain, he noticed Heather bristle. Subtly Kevin grabbed her tiny hand, giving it a light squeeze, and nodded. She glanced up at him grateful for his reassurance and he allowed her to enter first as he took up the rear.

The match was now well underway, but something had gone terribly, terribly wrong. Heather was staring across the ring at the massive figure crumpled on the mat in agony in the opposite corner. The agonized scream that emitted from the giant was surprising at best, heart-wrenching at worst.

Heather barely noticed the tumult that had broken out inside the ring as she cautiously made her way around it. That was just what they did, a sort of adlibbing and improvising when something went wrong. This was certainly not the direction the match was intended to take.

"What are you doing?" a low voice inquired.

Heather glanced over to see Reves had grabbed her arm as she rounded the ring post on the opposite side. "He's hurt," Heather argued urgently.

"I know. But you can't just run to him like he did you," the blonde hissed so no one would hear.

Heather looked again to the downed goliath. "But..." Her attention was then drawn to the ring where Shawn Michaels had delivered a Superkick to Booker T. That wasn't supposed to happen. Immediately following, Big Show Choke-slammed his opponent to pick up the win.

As the bell rang and Lillian Garcia announced the nWo and their partners as the victors, Heather noticed a couple of trainers already aiding Kevin. One of them happened to be Rob, the gentleman who tended to her own injury some weeks prior. Heather bolted towards them. "I-is he alright?" Heather questioned, trying not to sound too anxious.

Rob frowned. "Don't know for sure yet what's going on," he answered.

"It's okay. Everything's going to be fine," Kevin tried to assure her through gritted teeth. Yet when Heather looked upon his face contorted in agony, she had little faith in that statement.

Rob and Show helped Nash towards the backstage area. Shawn and Kid followed closely behind and Heather and Reves took up the rear.

Reves eyed her sister as she trudged wearily up the ramp, looking as though she might burst into tears at any moment. "Can you keep it together?" Reves scolded her, "This stuff happens all the time. You know that."

"I do," Heather confirmed as she blinked back a tear. "He seems to be in so much pain, it's worrisome," Heather admitted, attempting not to sound as wounded by her sister's biting tone as she was. Heather didn't lament the irony of the situation, considering it was her return from her own injury as well as Kevin's recovery from a previous one.

"What an idiot," Reves muttered, "injuring yourself by walking across the ring." Reves glanced at Heather to see if she had a reaction to her scathing words, but she seemed too distraught to be paying her any more attention.

Backstage in the trainer's room, Nash lay on the table where Rob could better assess the damage of what had happened. Present were Shawn and Kid, along with Paul Wight and the sisters.

"Yeah, I definitely think that quad is torn. This looks exactly like what happened to Paul last year," Rob told him after his evaluation.

"Fucking great. Is that all?" Nash groaned, still trying to be his sarcastic self.

What did that mean? The question was on the tip of Heather's tongue and her attention shifted from Rob to Kevin and back again as she was silently searching for an answer.

It wouldn't come, however, for the next instant, the door burst open with a horrific and thunderous bang. Everyone's head snapped toward the sudden intrusion with surprise. For the Calaway sisters especially Heather, time seemed to slow to a grinding halt. There in the doorway, stood Mark Calaway, with the raging fires of Hell blazing in hate-filled eyes.

"YOU SICK FUCK!" Mark roared as he launched himself straight at a prone Kevin Nash. The irate man wasted no time in unleashing his fury as he began raining down blow after unforgiving blow, sending everyone into an uproar.

"Shit!" Kid exclaimed.

"What the Hell, Dad?" Reves demanded.

But they were both drowned out by Heather's frightened shriek.

Once Paul and Shawn had come to their senses following the initial shock, they attempted to lug the furious man off their injured friend who at this point was rendered little more than defenseless. Mark's rage, however, appeared to give him superhuman strength as he batted Shawn away as though he were little more than a fly. Then he reared back and elbowed Paul in the face, knocking him senseless, before turning his wrath back on Nash, the man now allocated to being his personal punching bag.

"Ya wanna fuck with me? Fuck with my family? Alright then, get fucked, asshole!" Mark shouted as he continued his relentless assault.

"Daddy stop! Please!" Heather cried frantically; her face streaked with tears. She leaned over Kevin's prone body from the other side where she stood and pushed against her father's chest, but to no avail. "H-he's already injured. Just leave him alone! Pl-please!" Heather's voice cracked as her words turned to screams, but it was evident that her father had no intention of acquiescing to her pleas.

Suddenly he grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her tiny body around the table. She let out a yelp of pain as she felt her side ram into the corner of it at the head. Heather had witnessed his wrath many times in her life but for the first time, her heart was paralyzed with fear that he may very well bring real harm to her.

By this time, security had burst into the room after being alerted to the commotion. It took no longer than a moment or two to realize that Mark was the perpetrator here and they began attempting to reign him in. As at least three men attempted to apprehend him, Shawn took the opportunity to sock him in the face. This only served to further enrage Mark as he proceeded to battle any and everyone within range.

During the melee, Heather had managed to wretch free of Mark's grasp and flew back to Kevin's side. Gingerly, she clasped his face, bloodied and battered, in her hands. "I'm sorry," she uttered as if everything that was transpiring was entirely her fault.

Heather felt herself yanked backward by the waist, a stalwart arm encircling her like a steel band. Her head snapping behind her, she saw that security was forcing Mark out of the room while he was hauling her away along with him. To her right was Reves, her wrist clamped by their father's gigantic hand as she was being strung along grudgingly.

"W-wait! No, please!" Heather cried as she dug her heels into the concrete as though that would thwart the wrathful beast that had become her father. She lurched forward, reaching out, vision blurred with tears, but only grasped empty air. Her father's clutch tightened, like the clamps of a terrible machine that refused to release her and she felt her feet lift off the ground. He was without question, incredibly strong and his ire only rendered him more so.

Kevin released a long agonized groan. He could hardly comprehend what had occurred through the excruciating pain that surged through his body. He shook his head, trying to shake himself out of his stupor, but his vision swam. He could only piece together shouting and screaming, but one voice rang out through the din, perhaps because it was usually carried in such a meek and tender tone as opposed to the shrill cries he was hearing. His Little One.

Kevin's vision focused minimally; he saw Heather thrashing in her father's arms. No. No, no, no. He was taking her away and not one of these assholes was trying to stop him! "Mark! Mark wait!" Kevin called after him in a hoarse voice as he attempted to push himself up on the table. "Mark, we can talk about this," He pleaded as he painstakingly brought himself halfway to a sitting position. His entire being thudded with anguishing pain and he knew he was probably teetering on the edge of delirium.

Kevin was laboring to haul himself farther off of the table when Shawn jumped in front of him. "Woah! Woah! Big man, take it easy. You're in no condition to be getting into another scrap right now," he warned while pushing on the giant's chest.

"Fuck off!" Kevin snarled as he grabbed the front of Shawn's shirt and flung him to the side as though he were a rag doll. This action, however, proved to be detrimental to him as he was seized with immense agony. A pounding in his head, the tearing and slashing feeling in his knee, like someone had stabbed him all over again with a long, jagged serrated knife and yanked it upward. He expelled a tormented howl at the sensation.

Paul, being the only man in the room larger than him, firmly pushed Kevin back onto the table. "That's it, big guy. Let it go for now," he told him.

Kevin's head was spiraling with dizziness as he relented, falling back on the table. He ground the heels of his palms against his eyeballs, and let out a violent roar trying to combat the tormented pain and the frustration of being powerless at that moment.

Heather tumbled into the locker room. She was unsure if her father had tossed her inside or whether her knees had buckled from underneath her, but she found herself crashing unceremoniously to the concrete floor. Reves stumbled in behind her and Mark slammed the door shut with a loud bang.

"Wh-what's the meaning of all this?" Heather asked meekly as she struggled to haul herself to her feet. She was utterly flummoxed and endeavoring to rationalize everything she had just witnessed.

"Don't act stupid, girl! You know damn well what this is about," Mark shouted at her. She said nothing, only appearing more perplexed. "The bathing suit?" he added, confident that was sure to ring a bell with her.

The color instantly drained from Heather's countenance as the air left her lungs. The bathing suit? The one that...no. There was no possibility. She had taken it with her when she exited the room. She was sure of it. Or at least she thought she had been. Fresh tears spilled from her eyes in hot, furious streams. Heather took in short and shallow gulps of breath, feeling as though she was beginning to hyperventilate. They had done everything right. Taken every precaution. How on Earth was this happening?

"What do you have to say for yourself,?" Mark looked at his daughter, hoping for a split second that none of this was true, but taking in her guilt-ridden pallor he knew it was. She said nothing, but violently shook her head back and forth and she started bawling even harder.

"Well," it was Reves who began speaking and in an oddly calm manner at that. "I suppose as long as the skeletons are dancing out of the closet, I might as well tell you what I've done – or rather, who." Her tone was defiant and challenging.

"Don't you fucking say it!" he threatened.

But his daughter did not heed him. "Scott Hall," she hissed, daring his ire.

"I knew it! I mother fucking knew it! Mothering fucking, God damnit!" Mark roared as he thrashed a folding chair with a gigantic foot and then hurled it into the wall with a booming crash. "Why?" he demanded, glowering at both of his daughters as though he wanted to smash them through the concrete wall.

"Why?" Reves repeated with an ironic hint of laughter in her voice. "Why?" Her voice turned shrill as she flew towards him. "Because you're a selfish asshole who's never cared about anyone else!" Reves shrieked as she flailed her arms, fists pounding his chest as she unleashed her own unbridled rage. "Congratulations, Dad," she said after a few moments and dropped her hands for a second, "You're such a shit parent, you drove your own daughters into the arms of men twice their age. This is your fault!"

Her words had Mark seeing red as if he wasn't outrageously livid as it were. His entire body seethed like a raging inferno, a nuclear reactor that was set to blow. He had never before understood when someone claimed they had blacked out in the face of doing something reprehensible, but it was like the light switch being flipped off and his mind being wiped of all sentient thought. As she raised her fists again to resume her assault, his hand came up. The back of his hand connected to the young woman's face with a resounding crack, her head snapping to the side as an anguished cry broke from her lips. His younger daughter's horrified scream was muffled by her hands clamping over her open mouth.

After a second, Mark blinked and the lights came back on, but the damage inflicted in those few harrowing moments remained. His oldest child covered her nose with her hands, a river of crimson seeping through her fingers and flowing down her chin. Her blue eyes were vast oceans as they fixed on him in utter shock. In the next instant, the shock morphed into terror and heartbreak as tears cascaded from her sapphire eyes.

Mark felt his stomach drop as it felt like the Earth had fallen out from under him. God, what had he done? "Reves. Girl, I…" Mark was at a loss for words over his actions.

As he stepped towards her, she reeled back, thrusting out a crimson-painted hand to stay him. "Don't you fucking touch me! Don't come near me!" Reves screamed, her voice breaking as she staggered back like a petrified animal that had been cornered.

Heather wished to run to her sister's aid, but she was immobilized by fear. She had never before witnessed this degree of violence and rage from her father and every fiber of her being was seized by the horror of it. Her stomach churned with nausea and her body wracked from it along with the fear. Her frame unable to support itself any longer slowly sank down to the nearby bench. Glancing down she noticed a series of red smears streaking her crisp, white skirt just as she noticed blood dried on the palms of her hands. It appeared to match the stains painting her father's knuckles. However this was not belonging to Reves, that was afterward. That was Kevin's blood tarnishing his hands, and hers as well. Overwhelmed by the sheer trauma of what had transpired, Heather's cries echoed her sister's in a dreadful symphony of agony.

In the next moment, who should make his presence known other than the chairman, Vince McMahon himself? "Mark, what the hell is going on here?" Vince demanded as he stormed into the room. He took one look at Reves and the blood pouring down her face. "Holy..." he turned and yelled into the corridor, "I need medical personnel in here asap!"

The blonde's eyes turned dark as she glared at him. "Ha, like I need any help from the likes of you," she spat bitterly.

Just as the daughters thought perhaps their father had finished going ballistic, Mark charged at Vince and seized him by the neck, slamming him against the wall. "This is your doing! You just had to put them on. And with those worthless piece of shit scumbags. This is all coming to a stop, right now!" Mark hollered, his fist clenching tighter around McMahon's throat with every word her spoke.

"O-okay! Okay!" Vince choked out, as he clawed at Mark's hand, "I'll r-release them."

"Don't bother. I quit. Fuck this shit. Fuck all you assholes!" Reves screeched as she flew from the room.

After he got what he wanted, Mark released Vince who grabbed at his own throat coughing and gasping for air. "I should fire you along with your worthless daughters!" Vince sputtered out with a snarl. He had certainly fired men for much more menial transgressions. "And charge you for assault," he added.

Mark had no response other than to glower at his boss.

Heather had never taken her eyes off of the scene as it unfolded. This was absolute insanity. Her father had gone stark raving mad. He was bound and determined to brutalize anyone in his path and she still could not fully comprehend why. Still, her thoughts shifted to one person as she forced herself to stand. She sprinted from the room as well, racing down the corridor and praying that she was not too late. The blood pounding in her ears matched in time with her footfalls.

When she reached the trainer's room once again, she bolted into the door. Coming to a screeching halt, she careened into the now-vacated table. "No," Heather croaked as she scanned the empty room.

"He's gone," came a voice stating the obvious.

Heather spun around to see Rob, the trainer standing there, staring at her with a kind of empathetic pity.

"He already left for the hospital to treat the other injuries he's sustained, a concussion and such. Then, he'll be transported to Birmingham for surgery on his knee," Rob explained.

Heather said nothing in response to this but fell back against the table for support. Her body trembled out heaving sobs while she felt as if the Earth itself had fallen away underneath her. This could not be happening. But an hour ago it all seemed to be a perfect dream. Now everything had shifted into a horrid nightmare.

"I'm sorry, kid," Rob offered, not having the slightest clue as to what to say to comfort her. He was unsure about the exact nature of their relationship, but he was certain that to an extent, it was wholly inappropriate. Regardless, having seen the way Taker terrorized her the last couple of times she found herself in his office, his heart went out to her.

After one last commiserating glance, he left the room, leaving her alone with her misery as her only company.

Silence occupied the journey home. Silence at the airport. Silence on the plane. Silence during the car ride to the house.

Stepping into the foyer, a suitcase waiting by the door caught Mark's eye. He had seen that image once or twice in his career and it was never a good sign.

Sara was waiting for them in the living room. As soon as they filled the entryway she sprang to her feet, an indignant expression on her face. She began by announcing, "I'm done. I can't do this anymore!" She threw her hands in the air and continued, "How could you let this happen? You just had to follow the whims of the great and mighty, Vince McMahon, didn't you?"

Mark's own face twisted into a sneer. "Oh, so this is all my fault. Of course! Don't forget that you were the one that pushed me to drag them along everywhere," he shouted back at her.

"With some regard to their safety, I had hoped," Sara argued back. "But what does that matter? You took it upon yourself to invite that pervert to sleep under the same roof as your family. You don't give a damn about anyone but yourself Mark Calaway!"

"How the fuck was I supposed to know that was going to happen? And this?" Mark spread out his arms and gestured around the expansive living room with its vaulted ceilings and custom molding. "This is me being selfish? I've worked my ass off, broken my body, and missed so much to give you the best life. You and the kids. And this is how I'm repaid? That's bullshit, Sara!"

"Well, you can have this house, Mark! You can have all of it. I've put up with so much shit, way more than any woman should. But I draw the line at my children being violated and taken advantage of in their own home."

"So what? You sayin' it's over?" Mark demanded as his face flared red with anger.

"I don't know," Sara returned quickly. "I just know I can't be anywhere near you right now. I can barely stand the sight of you. I'm going to my parents for now. And I'm taking the girls with me. The boys have been at their girlfriends'. I'll let them know."

"Girls, go get a few changes of clothes. I'll be waiting in the truck," Sara told them as she began walking to the foyer.

Reves shot off sprinting up the stairs before Sara had finished. No way was she staying in this house with that fucking reprehensible prick.

"You can't just tell them they're gonna go with you. Come on you're being ridiculous," Mark pleaded as he followed her.

"They're welcome to stay if they like. By the way they were both looking at you, I highly doubt that. And what the hell happened to Reves' face?" Sara demanded in a rage grabbing her suitcase. When Mark said nothing she left and banged the door behind her.

Feeling the sting of his action, Mark turned back towards the living room. He quickly approached the staircase and called to Heather who had ascended halfway, "Come on girl, ya don't have to go. We can talk about this," his voice was strange, almost desperate.

Having reached the first landing, Heather whirled around. "Talk?" she asked incredulously. "You would like to talk? Why would I wish to speak with you? Why would I wish to be anywhere near you? You attacked Kevin knowing he was already injured! You struck Reves. You had no desire to talk when you charged into that room like a savage brute and proceeded to assault a defenseless man with no proper cause."

Her voice that had started out meek was growing more resound with each word. "Why don't you beat me as well? Beat me, like you did them!" she screamed at him as her tiny fists pounded her chest furiously, and angry tears streamed from her eyes. "You are a coward," she declared scornfully, disgust seeping from her voice.

"Fuck you, Dad! Heather spewed, dripping venom from every syllable. "I..." Bitter tears stung her eyes as her entire frame wracked with abhorrence for the man that she glared down at. "I HATE you!"

Mark thought he had been hit by a freight train for a moment, her word stunning him into silence. He had never seen such a loathsome look in her eyes, one of pure hatred. Never had he heard such disdain in her voice, as if he were the devil incarnate. This did something to Mark he couldn't quite describe. Normally he would have blown up on her and threatened to tear her up, but even he seemed to be running low on fuel for his rage. Heather seemed to have it in spades, however.

Without another word, Heather cast one last glaring look at her father before turning and sprinting the rest of the way up the stairs, leaving him in a stupefied state. She ran to her room, the place that was once her sanctuary from the outside world, and sank down onto the bed. Her body vibrating with fury, Heather could not remember ever being so incensed. Her stomach churned as she produced heaving and hysterical sobs.

Heather was utterly perturbed by the state of events that had taken place. Not half a day ago, she was wholly elated by her reunion with Kevin. How everything could have shifted so horribly within the span of an hour? Why had her father waited so long to reveal his ire? The answers seemed beyond her comprehension. It wasn't something she had given much contemplation to on the journey home due to her distress over being separated from Kevin and the preoccupation with his current condition.

Then she realized that there was no plausible way her father could have held his temper for that length of time. That must have been something quite recently divulged to him. But how?

Heather's heart lurched in her chest. Her mother. She would have been the only one to venture into both rooms after the fact. Heather rushed towards her dresser and yanked open the drawer where her mother would have put away her swimsuit. Rummaging within she procured the top garment in question, but could not locate that matching bottom half.

Disheartened Heather closed the drawer, but remained clinging to the minuscule fabric. Heather lapsed back down onto the bed as a fresh wave of sobs laced with bitterness and betrayal surged from her. Her own mother had sold her out to her father; thrown her to the wolves. Perhaps not with malicious intent, but it was all the same with the knowledge of how volatile he would be.

And now Heather had no alternative but to leave with her. It certainly wasn't wise to remain here, not after her outburst towards her father. Nor did she wish to. It was apparent to Heather that she must choose between the lesser of the two evils in this instance. A choice that did not bring her joy in any respect, but that must be concluded.

Heather willed herself off of the bed once more. On wobbling limbs she began gathering the provisions she would need for the foreseeable future (likely no more than the next few days). Heather felt the grip of despair closing itself around her. She found herself thrust into even greater desolation once she conceded that the one person whom she would have turned to for solace in light of such a conundrum had been so ruthlessly ripped from her life.

Heather had been the last one to exit the house. When she had done so she hadn't paid Mark any mind but had slammed the front door with a horrific bang to reiterate just how much she despised him and probably this house as well.

Once he was alone, Mark looked around the home with its vaulted ceilings, custom molding, and rustic architecture. In truth, the home was a little big, even with six of them living there. But Mark never wanted them to have to feel overcrowded or that their home wouldn't accommodate them, not after living in that cramped apartment until his career began to take off.

Mark chuckled with an ironic sense of gloom. The enormous home was eerily quiet and it was strange to hear nothing at all. Not one of the kids blasting their migraine-inducing noise (music) or bickering back and forth until he had to threaten to tear all of them up.

What had he become? How did he get to this point? All he had wanted was to give his family a good life. A lot of good that had done him. It was like he had now become the living embodiment of his character, a cold unfeeling asshole, who was concerned with no one save himself. His wife was on the verge of divorcing his ass. His daughters hated him with every fiber of their beings. He was so blinded by rage that he slapped his own daughter in the face. Her nose may very well be broken, but she wouldn't let anyone near her. Even his sons wanted nothing to do with him. He knew that although they would never express it. He had ruined his own family. And in turn, probably lost his job over it as well.

Reves had been right. He had become so callous and withdrawn with affection that he pushed his children away and affectively pushed his daughters into the arms of men twice their ages. It was a father's worst nightmare and it sicken him that he had been instrumental in doing so.

He had always been stern with the kids. He had commanded respect and had high expectations for them. He wasn't above tanning their hides if they stepped too far out of line, but he had never ever crossed a line like he did last night. It was polarizing to see the girls' shift in attitude as though they had switched bodies. Reves, usually defiant, looking wounded and fearful. And Heather was so skittish. It was a damning feeling to have his own eyes glaring back at him with pure, unadulterated hatred.

He looked up at the collection of photos on the mantle over the fireplace. Now he only had the ghosts of the past to keep him and he couldn't help but wonder if they loathed his company too. At a loss, Mark sank down onto the sofa with his head in his hands. With no one there to witness, he did the only thing that he had left to do in mourning for the family he had destroyed. Mark cried.

In the words of Shakespeare: "The shit hath hittith the fan...ith." (or maybe that was that guy in '10 Things I Hate About You')

Don't hate me too much. I'm sad enough. *goes to a corner and bawls my eyes out*