A/N: Yeah, I had this up a few years ago, but I stopped writing and deleted it. I refound it and edited a bunch of the grammar things and changed a couple sentences and such. I hope you enjoy it!

The first part of the chapter is from Melody's point of view, and then the rest will be Helena's point of view.

Helena seems as though a leprechaun of some sort. Hopping about from seat to seat, glancing back for a second, seeing if we can catch up. Then, again, she camouflages herself among the crowd. Playful, I knew she was. Acting like a child when excited, eyes lit up, spilling her ideas and dream to us; wondrous ideas, wondrous dreams. Someday she would be an artist, a true artist. Traveling across the world; Germany, France, and Rome. She wanted to explore it all through artist’s eyes. Her works were amazing and assured her success. Colors soured onto the canvas, charcoal shadowed their lines upon the page; canvas, paint, charcoal, pastels, pencils, and color. These became her tools of creation, and each piece became a masterpiece. Her addiction was to become great, and that in turn did make her the best.

I see her finally stopping, eyes telling us to hurry. Her eyes turn dull, then instantly gleam. She is off. To the back of the crowd she scrambles. I run after her through the crowd, weaving and dodging. Wind dances with my hair.

I stop and peer back. Lucas is a little behind. I stop and wait. He catches up. I pull him along, making sure to keep my eye on Helena. She is almost out of sight. Soon enough the crowd is past. Lucas and I see her waiting patiently, lying upon the grass, almost angelically.

We sit next to her, waiting for her to speak. Helena always takes time to talk. She closes her eyes and thinks, face expressionless. Her eyelids slowly open. I see another look in her eyes. One I do not like. Lucas shoots me a worried glance.

"What did you want to tell us?" I ask her in a cautious tone.

"Things. Many things. Perhaps too complicated to say, or too common to think clearly about. But it is important. Do not interrupt until I am done."

Another side of Helena is shown. A side that is careful, expressionless, quiet, and eerily calm. Like a storm waiting just beneath the surface.

This is vital.

I look at Melody and Lucas and pause. My mind works against me, telling me the worst. They won't believe me. They'll think of me a whore. I know I feel like a whore, an over-used sex toy, a battered doll. Thinking about it causes me to shiver. I turn away and unfold the story, trying best to ignore the voice screaming at me the consequences I will suffer if she finds out.

"I will tell you a story of a girl who is me. You won't believe the girl who speaks. I know this. But it needs to be told. You know part of what I tell you now. When I was 5, my parents died. Immediately afterward I was put into a foster home, only to be taken out when I was 6, when they located my aunt and had me live with her. It was ok at first. She barely bothered me, and I always kept to myself. But when we did communicate some, it wasn't too...enjoyable. But since contact was rare, it was bearable. This went on for about 6 years. But when I turned 12, I started to change. You know, puberty. And that's when it all went to hell.
It didn't seem like anything at first. She walked in on me a few times when I was changing or getting out of the shower. "Just an accident,” as she'd say. But then she started getting too close, brushing up against me. I realized something wasn't right. That it wasn’t so much an accident. One day I confronted her, which proved to be a mistake, a horrid one. And I found myself desperately needing to escape."

"I was 13. It was a Friday. I had just come home from school. She was in her bedroom, sprawled upon her bed watching TV. When I appeared in the doorway she looked up. And I asked her. I wanted to know why she always walked in on me, always coming a bit too close for comfort. "HOW DARE YOU ASK ME THAT!" she thundered. The response surprised me, frightened me. She picked herself off the bed. I backed away from the doorway, and ran to my room. I threw my backpack against the door, fastening the lock tightly. I tried to put anything against the door to keep me safe. Suddenly, she was pounding upon the door.

I ran to my bathroom, slamming the door behind me. Again I fastened the locks, barricaded it. I ran to the window, opened it, and tore out the screen. I heard her break the door open, then pound upon the bathroom door. I was terrified by then. Escape, escape, and escape were the only words on my mind. I scrambled out of the window. I knew it would be harder for her to exit through there. I found myself in the backyard. I looked around. The fence. I ran to the opening and practically smashed down the entrance. My aunt was trying to get out the window before I escaped. The icy grip of pure fear grasped me. I started running down the street. Anywhere except back to that place. I knew she was somewhere near. She had a car; of course she'd catch up eventually."

"I had been running for 10 minutes straight. I was exhausted. I collapsed and crashed to the ground. My breathing was ragged. But I needed to run farther and farther. Forcing myself, I ran more. Tired as hell, I collapsed again. No way was I able to go any further. I dragged myself behind a bush, hoping it would hide me. And it did for a little while, an hour or two. Then I saw her searching the streets in her car. She parked on the side of the road. I held my breath as she stepped out. I scrunched myself into a fetal position. She drew closer. Then walked back to her car and drove around the corner to another street. I breathed a sigh of relief and stood up. I walked down the side walk at a slow pace, knowing she was gone for now. But what would I do? I couldn't go to the police. I couldn't accuse her of molestation or sexual abuse. She hadn't really done anything. What she had done would be passed off as accidents. “God,” I had thought, “what the hell do I do?” I knew I was helpless.

I turned the corner, and saw instantly my aunt leaning against her car. My heart stopped. She was waiting for me. Somehow she knew I was behind that bush. I didn't even try to escape. It would have been useless. “YOU’RE COMING WITH ME, YOU FUCKING BITCH!” she screamed at me. I cringed as I was shoved into the backseat. The car drive was silence.”

“I rushed into my room when I got through the front door. I gasped as I saw it was trashed. Cloths pulled out from the dresser and strewn across the room, my lamp lay shattered on the ground; Bed covers messed up and crumpled. I just stood there, staring at it all. I didn't hear her come in and shut the door. She shoved me onto the bed. I was overpowered. She grabbed my head and forced her mouth against mine. I struggled. Fruitless. I was trapped. Oh god, I was trapped. She...she literally started ripping off my cloths-"

A sob escapes my lips. I can't say another word. Tears stream down my face. Melody runs to me and embraces me. Lucas comes to my other side and does the same. They both hold me close. They understand. They care. They believe. Thank god.