Chapter one

Not a Telemarketer

She laughed as she answered the phone, her mind still on the sitcom she had left for the shrill beckoning of the telephone.

"Hello?" She schooled her low voice into a polite query, her lips still forming a slight smile.

"Alex?" A small voice came through the line and Alex's heart seemed to drop.

"Julie." It wasn't a question, but a statement. Julie's voice sounded quiet and sore; Alex absently wondered how long and hard she had been crying before she had placed the call.

"Alex-" Julie swallowed and tried again: "Alex, I-"

"I'm on my way." She hung up and ran around her apartment, gathering appropriate materials. She was nearly out the door when she stopped mid- step and turned on her heel.

She reached the phone again without really telling her body to go there. However, there wasn't a moment's hesitation when she dialed a series of memorized numbers.

Inconsequential

Debra Sanders tapped her heel impatiently, cursing her late date with an efficiency that would have even made her coarse father wince. With the unwelcome thought of the father she had never been close to, Debra rolled her eyes and checked her slim gold watch yet again.

She yanked out the compact cell phone to call Nathan Daniels and let him know exactly what she thought of him. It rang in her hand. Narrowing her eyes at the thought of her answering and being met with a hundred meaningless platitudes, she groaned in disgust.

"Hello?" She snapped, her tone as warm as an iceberg.

"Deb?" Came a wary reply.

Debra's hazel eyes widened in surprise. "Alex?"

"Yeah." A sigh. "Deb, it's Julie."

"Damn."

"Yeah."

"I'll meet you there." Debra shut off the phone while yanking her front door open. She ran out of the penthouse the company granted her and debated on whether or not to call Nathan for a full ten seconds before dismissing him as inconsequential and hailing a cab.

Running Scared

Julie Colvin sniffed noisily, shivering in her thin gown even though the heater was on full blast. He had always liked it on, sometimes even in the summer. It had never ceased to amaze her how such a big man could always be so cold. She wrapped her pale arms around her slim waist in a fruitless attempt to maintain some semblance of heat.

Swallowing hard, she concentrated on avoiding looking at that one corner of the bedroom. Clutching the phone to her chest, it was not until she looked down and saw her trembling knuckles whiten beneath the red they were covered in that she released the device. She slowly stood to her feet, ignoring the ache in her lower abdomen. None of that mattered. All that mattered was getting to the complex. They would know to find her there. They could always find each other there. All throughout college the apartment was theirs. Back then, it had been a wonderful place to live but the years had degraded it. After they had left, a couple had occupied it. Then, early one morning the man murdered his wife and then shot himself. Since that day, no one else dared occupy the dingy room.

After graduation Alex and Debra had left to start their budding careers. Julie had decided to stay. And marry him.

Jumping back to the present, she made her way down the stairs to the front door. The slightly chilly winds of Los Angeles abused her nightdress, but Julie pressed forward. She concentrated on placing on foot in front of the other rather than recalling the image of his leaden body, distorted and lifeless.

It was not long before she arrived at her destination. She opened the door of the apartment complex; it was warm. The narrow hallway was poorly lighted and filled with daunting shadows. Rather than being put off by the conditions, Julie embraced them. This was refuge-back then and always.

Julie forced her numb feet to tread up the creaking stairs as her chapped hands gripped the rotting banister. She remembered the girls' reaction to him. Alex had respected her choice, but it was plain as day she held him in low esteem. Debra had not hesitated to share her own harsh epithets concerning him.

They had been right.

Recap

Debra ran through the airport, her heels clicking erratically on the cold surface below her. She mentally cursed the shoes, afraid of wasting valuable energy by voicing the expletive. She cursed the black number she wearing for the cocktail party she'd now never attend. She cursed the plump woman that wouldn't remove her energetic children out of her way. When she rounded the right gate number, her freshly printed ticket flapping in her right hand, she cursed the line she had had to wade through to purchase her ticket.

But most of all, she cursed him. She hated him more than anyone she had ever known. She hated him so much it scared her. She hated him because Julie couldn't bring herself to do it. Alex had kept quiet, but Debra knew all she had felt for him was severe disdain.

"You made it just in time," the uniformed woman smiled prettily and Debra peeled her lips back in what she prayed was a facsimile of a grin.

She ran through the connecting causeway, her dark hair falling out of its elegant chignon. By the time she flopped down in the first class seat, Debra was breathing hard and incredibly thirsty. After turning down the fish dinner and requesting a club soda, she let her head fall back against the seat. When she felt she could breathe again, Debra rolled her head to the side to look out the small window.

The flashing lights were hypnotizing and soon she was staring at them, beyond them, into the darkness.

She had wanted to tell Julie not to marry him, but Alex wouldn't hear it. She had said it was Julie's choice and as her friends, they should offer support. Debra had accused her of selfishly throwing away Julie's future simply to avoid a scene that belied Alex's proper upcoming. Alex had only clenched her jaw and brushed by her to go into the living room. She had felt awful for the cutting jab, but she stubbornly stuck to her opinion of telling Jules that that man was no good for her.

The next morning she had left for medical school in Chicago and never had the chance to apologize. At the wedding they were warm and friendly, but the remark had always been in the air. Julie, the peacemaker, had never even known the words had been spoken, so she wasn't aware of the rift. They had done a decent job of keeping in touch. Phone calls and e-mails here and there. Luncheons when they all had business in L.A. The meetings had been light, never had the delved into the deep issues their relationships had been forged on in college. Never had the need risen. Until now.

Faking it

Julie tried to stop her slim body from shaking uncontrollably by wrapping her cold arms around her midriff and pressing. They would be here soon. She tried to ignore the ache in her thighs, her abdomen, her heart. She squeezed her eyes shut, oblivious to the tears that eked out under them.

What had she done? The first thing wonderful to happen in a long time and she ruined it. Julie sniffed, her lower lip trembling as she drew in a shaky breath. She had called upon his anger and someone else had suffered. Julie raised a raw hand to brush away her tears and nearly bit back a cry of pain as her fingers hit the large bruise covering her eye and cheek. She removed her chilled hand and watched in sick fascination as it came back red with her blood.

She bit back the overwhelming urge to cry. Instead, she sighed and closed her eye shut. She opened it with a start when all her vision could show her was Matt's angry face rather than sweet blackness.

Julie pressed her back to the right angle formed in one of the corners of the empty room. She could hear the soft rasping of scuffed paint coming off as she made her way to a curled up ball on the floor. Once again, she tried to blot out the happenings of that night and once again, she was cursed with the memories she desperately needed to forget.

***She stood in front of her full-length mirror, extending her flat tummy as far as it would go. Rays of joy shot through any dark clouds Matt's reaction would bring.

She was going to have a baby. Thirty years of her life had gone by without her being able to do anything right. But she had done something right. She had created a life. Her small hands rubbed the spot where her child was growing; reveling in the enormous responsibility she had been blessed with.

Matt would be upset at first, she cringed at the thought of his volatile reaction, but eventually the notion of a little Bancroft would grow on him. He would be happy. He had to be happy.

Her hands clenched painfully at a sudden, frightening thought. What if he made her get rid of it? Julie crossed her arms protectively over where the baby resided.

She couldn't lose the baby. It was all she had. It needed her.

It needed her.

A door slammed downstairs. A vase fell over and she closed her eyes for a split second, imagining it crashing into a million, irreplaceable pieces. She opened them with a start and bit her lip in dismay.

The news would have to wait. Matt was drunk.

It took ten minutes for her husband to clamber up to their room. By the time their bedroom door was opened none too quietly, Julie was on her side of the bed, feigning sleep.

She always pretended. Hoping that perhaps one time the acting would be plausible and he would leave her alone. But she could never do it right

She felt the weight of the mattress shift as he climbed on the white comforter. His breath, reeking of alcohol, fanned her cheek. "Julie," he sang, the soft words belied by the foreknowledge they both held of the events soon to pass.

She squeezed her eyes shut and whimpered so quietly that the pathetic note went unheard.

"Julie, I swear to God, if you don't get up." his voice turned hard, like it always did when she tried to evade him.

She opened her eyes. "Matt," she spoke softly, gently, hoping the calm manner wouldn't ignite his anger further. "Matt, please. Not tonight. I-"

She was on the floor before she knew it. A stinging cheek the only clue she had as to how she had gotten there. Brutal hands bruising her wrists. Yanking her to her knees. Telling her she better suck and suck hard before she made him show her his real anger.

He came hard and fast, throwing her away from him as he finished his climax. She made a move to get up from the floor, but Matt was there first. He pushed her chin up to meet his furious gaze.

She knew fear.

"You were a talentless bitch from a poor white trash family when I found you, Julie." He kissed her cheek tenderly and Julie nearly screamed in terror. "Never forget that." He staggered over to the bed, but before resting his head on the pillow, he managed one more blow. "You would be a cocksucking whore working the streets if it wasn't for me."

Her next words were out of her mouth before she even knew where they came from. "But now I'm just your cocksucking whore, is that it?"

Despite his inebriated state, he was next to her in an instant, his massive frame pushing menacingly against hers. "Damn straight," he hissed.

Courage and rebellion came from nowhere. She wanted to stamp them out. They had no place in this house, no place in her.

"I'm your wife, Matthew. Janet Gailens, Sandra Bellows, Carrie Johnson, they're your cocksucking whores." Oh, God. Eight years and she had managed to keep her mouth shut and her eyes closed. Courage and rebellion fled. Even they were terrified of the man she called her husband. She was empty. When his fist met her, her already battered spirit fell with her limp body.

She hit the vanity dresser with a force that scared her. She could feel blood coming out of her nose, warm and steady. Bruises were forming already; tomorrow would be hell.

If she survived. A slow, aching feeling swept over her. She turned her head to face him, trying to make out his frame through her swollen eye. He had never been this angry. She didn't know if the warm liquid trickling down her cheek was a tear or blood. She couldn't move her arm to find out. She watched helplessly as he hovered over her.

She had never been a religious person, but her father had. Perhaps that was why the idea of organized religion had always repelled her. Completely belying her soft spoken and shy nature, Julie was adamant about not attending church or anything of the sort. But as she felt Matt's hands on her, she closed her eyes and did something she hadn't done since her mother had forced her to when she was seventeen.

Julie prayed. ***

Reflection

Alex ran an agitated hand through her auburn hair. Unable to stay still, she pulled off her gold-rimmed glasses and rubbed her eyes, praying she would reach Julie before Debra did. Debra might take one look at Julie's battered face and enact a revenge of her own on Matt.

Yes, Alex knew without a doubt that Julie's emergency was the wounds she had been inflicted with by her loving partner in life. Julie had confessed to her a year ago when she had been forced to finally go to the hospital due to a broken arm and ribs. Alex had pressed her to leave Matthew and immediately find a shelter. However, true to her stubborn, headstrong nature, Julie had been adamant about staying. Matthew loved her. Really. He had just had a hard day at work.

Alex had left it at that. But not in good conscience. She thought about Julie daily. Julie had intimated that this was a one time deal, the first and last time Matt would ever lay a hand on her. Alex, hundreds of miles away, had all too begrudgingly accepted Julie's decision. Now, thousands of miles in the sky, she kicked herself repeatedly for letting her friend go back to a situation that was obviously detrimental to her body and mind.

Feeling tears burn the back of her eyes, Alex dug the heels of her hands into her eye sockets, sucking in deep breaths. God, how has she let it get this far? How bad was Julie? Pretty damn bad if she had been forced to call the person she had defended Matt to.

Guilt rushed through her, making her sick to her stomach. She swallowed dryly and after a moment when the turbulence within her didn't subside, she rushed to the lavatory. She landed on her kneecaps hard, ignoring the sharp pain shooting up her thighs as she dry heaved into the metal toilet.

A few seconds later, she managed to splash her face with lukewarm water from the meager flow the sink provided. She stared at her wet face, gazing at the drops sliding down her cheeks, to her chin, and falling silently into the silver sink.

She had sacrificed her friend's future under the pretense of allowing her to make her own decisions. She thought she was doing the right thing, enabling Julie to grow and be free. Give her the options her own mother had never granted her. Instead, she had thrown Julie into an abusive marriage with a husband she had known was a Class-A asshole. Had Debra been right? Had she simply sat aside because of the scene it would have caused? Has she sacrificed her friend for the sake of archaic decorum her mother had instilled within her?

She gazed back at the face blankly looking at her. Her green eyes looked enormous and tired against the paleness of her face. She pushed her wavy hair behind her ears, the unruly style foreign to her. Usually, she kept it tied back in sleek knots and twists. The austere look helped viewers, employers, and potential interviews take her a whole lot more seriously.

She wetted her dry lips and closed her eyes. When she opened them, she was the same. She was still Alexandra Elizabeth Niven. She always was. This game had never worked, but somehow she had carried it with her out of childhood. The result was always the same, however. She didn't even know what she hoped to see when she opened her eyes after squeezing them tight.

Maybe someone else.