This is the first story I've ever posted here, so I hope it's up to scratch. It's a relatively short one I've been developing, just to sort of test the waters, so I hope you all like it!
ps: I apologize for the picture size, they'll be a little bigger in the next chapter, I just haven't had time to edit them yet.

EDIT: so at first, I was going to include Oliver and Elizabeth in another, separate story, but upon further reflection, I decided to use them as a stepping stone.Welcome to truth and Recovery, those of you who have already read Denial, as this used to be called. And to those of you who haven't, welcome to whatever this is that I'm doing, thanks for reading, etc. etc.

The hospital was almost silent at two o clock in the morning.
The secretary, sitting quietly at her desk, was struggling to keep her eyes open, as were the three people still waiting to be seen.


One of the three people sitting in the darkened waiting room stirred slightly, easing the pressure on her elbow. Her name was Elizabeth Walker.
She wore simple clothes with designer labels, though the way they hung on her slender frame suggested that she had thrown them on in a hurry.
Her hair was long and wavy, let down intentionally to keep her face covered.
Elizabeth was there for the usual reason.
Midnight was such an inconvenient time. It was so sudden...She suppressed the anxious wave of nausea that always came with hospital visits and squeezed her eyes shut. Feigning sleep was the easiest way she knew of to hide her face.
It wasn't too bad today, but you never knew what might spark curiosity. Or worse, pitying looks.
She hated those. People always seemed to think they knew what was going on in her life.
As if they knew the first thing about her. Gradually, the nausea faded and she relaxed slightly.

So far there were no pitying looks, but there was curiosity from the man sitting rather close to her in the waiting room. His name was Oliver Grant. He sat uncomfortably in his chair, fidgeting slightly every time there was a sound. He was wearing quite casual clothing, having dressed without paying much attention. His eyes moved rapidly around the waiting room, often coming to rest on the young woman next to him.
Oliver was in the hospital waiting for news about his mother, who would be here on and off for a month. She had just received hip replacement surgery, and he had agreed to spend the night with her once a week. He hadn't been able to sleep that night though, so had come down and, out of pure boredom, was trying to figure out what was wrong with the various people in the waiting room. There was something other than boredom keeping him up however. He was worried. Oliver was, as a rule, uncomfortable with silence. The cavernous space of the hospital intensified his discomfort. Finally, he cleared his throat softly.
"What are you in for?" The question was directed to the girl sitting near him. He couldn't see her face.

Elizabeth lifted her head.
"Who, me?" She noticed that he didn't recoil when he saw the bruises. That was good. Now, she had to give her fabricated excuse.
"Oh, I just fell down the stairs on my way up to bed. Nothing serious, but I think I might have fractured my wrist, so I came in for some x-rays."

He was nice about her "accident", but she was still glad when a nurse interrupted the uncomfortable chat that followed.
"Elizabeth Brown? Come on through please." She had the wrong last name, or course. Elizabeth stood, wincing slightly and gave Oliver a parting nod.
"I hope your mother's all right." He gave her an odd look.
"I hope you're all right."
Elizabeth froze. He knew -or had somehow guessed- more than he was letting on. I better not see him again She frowned slightly and followed the nurse into a room that had become quite familiar to her by then.


"Now then dear, make yourself comfortable and draw the curtain around you. We're doing your wrist, correct?" She washed her hands in that busy manner that nurses always seemed to have, then directed Elizabeth to hold her hand off to the side and position it on the bed in a comfortable position. She had already done so; Elizabeth was quite experience with these things.
"What happened?" This question was also repeated quite a lot.
"Well, I fell down the stairs...just a clumsy accident." The nurse paused.
"Really? Hmmm."

Elizabeth tensed with sudden alarm. That had never happened before. She tried to peer through the curtain to see the nurse, but her face wasn't visible.
"I...don't know what you mean." The nurse smiled, trying to be reassuring though she knew the patient couldn't see her.
"Hold still for one moment...there. We nurses do talk to each other you know. I happen to know that you've been in twice already this month, both times with bruises on your face. Have you fallen down the stairs that often?" Elizabeth tried very hard to keep her expression neutral.
"I'm clumsy. Terribly sorry to have inconvenienced your staff, of course." Her mind raced as she tried to think of a viable thing to say that would get the nurse our of her business.
"I should warn you though, I may be filing a complaint with the hospital for violation of patient confidentiality. That is, if you would be so kind as to give me the name of the nurse who told you?"

Mary had worked at the hospital for two years and never had a patient who had said something like that. She didn't want to lose her job, so though the reply had offended her slightly, she replied politely.
"My apologies. I didn't intend to interfere, I just need to know exactly how you injured yourself to provide and accurate diagnosis." She busied herself with the x-rays. Elizabeth gradually relaxed. As it turned out, her wrist wasn't fractured, just badly sprained. But the nurse handed her over to a doctor anyway, to check whether she needed stitches in her cheek.

The doctor didn't pry at all as he examined her face, just examined her gently.
"Well, I don't see any heavy bleeding, but I would like to ask you some questions, just to be sure." She nodded, feeling slightly dizzy.
"Do you feel any nausea?" Elizabeth had in fact felt nauseous sitting in the waiting room, but she had assumed it was out of nerves.
"Well, yes." His following questions were about dizziness, shortness of breath, and vomiting. When he learned that she had had all save vomiting, he admitted her to the hospital overnight for a mild concussion.

That night, Elizabeth slept fitfully for a few hours and awoke to a throbbing pain in her head and a nurse taking her blood pressure. She would be released at noon, but until then she was given a book to read. She had just started the first chapter when there was a gentle knock on her door. It was Oliver.


"Hey. I uh...heard you had to stay over night, so I figured I'd pop in to visit. Mom still isn't awake, so."
Elizabeth was still wary of him, but she appreciated the idea of some company. She heard suppressed anxiety in his voice and closed her book with a snap.
"Thanks for coming. Is that...is it bad?" He rubbed his temples with his fingertips.
"They won't tell me. As far as I can tell, it's not bad, but it's not normal. It bothers me." She looked at him, smiling slightly.
"I'm sure she's fine Oliver." For the next twenty minutes, they talked easily. Elizabeth was quite enjoying his company, despite her expectations. She couldn't remember having been able to talk to anyone as easily as she did now. Not that they discussed anything in particular. Things like books, hobbies, schools, and jobs passed between them. Eventually, Oliver checked his watch and stood.
"Hey, I'd better go check on my mom now. Uh...this has been nice. Maybe...we could go for coffee or something when you get out of here?" She had just opened her mouth to answer when they both heard the door open and shut.

Oliver turned to see a handsome blond guy standing in the doorway. His first impression was of power. Whoever this guy was, he probably had a lot of clout somewhere. His second impression was of cold blue eyes and features that would probably get him any girl he wanted. Elizabeth didn't seem to agree with his conclusion. Her eyes had suddenly gotten large and her pupils dilated, like those of a small animal in a trap. The man spoke softly.
"I hope I haven't interrupted anything, Lizzy."

Elizabeth swallowed, and looked at Oliver.
"Oliver, this is my husband, Peter. Peter, I just met Oliver last night. His mom's here and he was bored so he's been keeping me company."
Oliver gave Elizabeth a sharp look. Her voice was quite different than it had been before. It had acquired a sharp, brittle quality. He shook hands with Peter, who crushed him in an iron grip.
"Glad to see you've been keeping her company. She's so clumsy some times, aren't you Lizzy?" Elizabeth smiled automatically, inwardly hoping Oliver would leave soon.
"Yeah. Um. I'll see you around Oliver." He had already headed towards the door, but he turned briefly to look from her to Peter and back again.
"Yeah. See you."

The moment the door closed behind him, Peter strode over to her bed and put his face close to hers.
"Glad to see you've been making friends, but don't overdo it okay? I don't want snoops." She didn't dare look at him as she replied.
"I just met him today. I won't contact him again, all right?" Peter smiled.
"You can contact him again. He seems like an okay guy. It could help show people how friendly we are. In fact, why don't you invite him to my business party next Saturday? Your face should be fine by then, right?" She nodded, still not looking at him. This was bad. Oliver didn't need to be mixed up with Pete. It would just lead him to trouble.
"I'll invite him then." Not good not good not good. Those two words repeated themselves in her head long after she got home that day.

Hey! Great story!
I really love the prose, and it's such a great breeze of a read. I'll keep checking up on this one, I think! And don't worry about the pictures, they still look great. :3

Agreed, I love it. I don't normally read stories on here but I thought I'd give one a try fully expecting to get bored and stop reading after the first paragraph but no, I had to finish this one Looking forward to the next instalment.

PS I think you have a typo: you say she's weary of him but I'm assuming you mean wary?

Thank you, that makes me happy. Chapter two will hopefully be up soon. And yes, I meant wary, shall go fix that now.

Elizabeth sat in front of the fountain, staring at nothing in particular and letting the peaceful quiet of the night settle in her mind. Peter was working late that night, so she didn't need to be home, and there was nowhere else she particularly wanted to go. She allowed her thoughts to drift freely; an unusual occurrence. More than once her mind returned to the young man she'd met in the hospital. She didn't know why, it wasn't as if they'd talked about anything important. Peter wants to invite him to a party. She sighed at the thought. Nothing good ever came of Peter's business parties. Well at least, nothing good for the bystanders. Everyone there was just another rung on the business ladder. Including her. She was always dressed up, made up, and pumped with champagne, the ultimate trophy wife. Peter was fond of showing her off. At his parties, that was the only time he called her beautiful. The only time he introduced her to people. But it was also the only time she felt completely useless. No. That wasn't true. She felt useless all the time now. Just as she came to that realization, she heard a familiar voice come out of the darkness. Oh no. Not you.

"Hey, Elizabeth, right?"
He was smiling at her, cheerful and innocent as she remembered him. She forced a returning smile, but her voice came out tired.
"Yes. Hello, Oliver."
He gave her a sideways glance, but let it pass. Maybe she was just tired. Oliver himself wasn't tired at all. He had just come from a party with a couple of his friends, but he wasn't fond of their kind of parties and had slipped away as they made their way drunkenly to another bar.
"What are you doing here?"
Elizabeth looked up at him, feeling a desire to prolong the conversation that she squashed immediately.
"I was just...in need of some peace and quiet."
It was the truth, but only part of it.
"I actually was on my way home..." She stood.

Oliver frowned at her, hesitated a moment, then took her gently by the shoulders.
"Hey, I know I just met you, but I feel...I feel like something's wrong. Why are you so sad?"
She swore inwardly. He could read her like an open book. Nobody else had been able to do that, not even Pete. The smart thing to do would have been to fake a smile, fabricate an excuse, and leave with dignity. But there was something about Oliver that stopped her. Perhaps it was the way he looked at her. As if he genuinely cared, not like the nurse at the hospital who just wanted gossip material, or the dozens of people seeking to increase their reputation with her husband. She couldn't lie to him.
"I...uh...Oliver...I really should go."
To her horror, her voice cracked.
"Hey! Don't cry. It's okay. Whatever it is, it's okay."
He was being to anxious. And getting too close. She detached herself from his grasp firmly, and did the only thing she could think of. She got angry.
"My life is none of your business, okay? I'm not crying, I'm FINE! And I have to go now. I'll see you around. Maybe."
And she ran.

The park passed by her in an indistinguishable blur and the only sound she heard was her heartbeat. How had he undone her like that? With one look she had melted into a barf worthy puddle! Elizabeth allowed all other emotion to be eclipsed by anger. She was home and in bed in ten minutes. But sleep wouldn't come.

Oliver watched her go, puzzlement and hurt etched on his face. What was wrong with her? There was something going on, something he didn't like. The urge to protect this girl was almost overwhelming. She was different somehow. He'd just met her, and he cared about her already. He frowned slightly. It would be a lie to say he didn't have feelings for her. She's married. Get over it and move on, bud. There are plenty of fish in the sea. Though the thought generated only resentment, he forced himself to go back to the party, waking up the next morning with a woman he'd never seen before and a wicked hangover.

The next day, Peter remembered Oliver.

He didn't bother to knock on the study door before he walked in, causing Elizabeth to flinch and drop her crossword puzzle on the floor. She recognized the smell of alcohol on his breath and looked up apprehensively. Her eyes raked over the jacket, slightly askew, and the unusually messy hair. He didn't seem completely drunk, but a little whiskey was enough to set her on edge.
"Hi sweety. What brings you here?"
She injected a little extra honey into her voice, though it shook slightly. He grinned at her, with the straight, even teeth that had once made her swoon.
"Have you invited whatshisface to the party yet?"
She stood, still smiling as if she was glad to see him. "Whatshisface" meant Oliver. The one person she needed to forget. For his own good, as well as hers.
"I don't have his number, darling. I know you wanted me to, but..."
He stepped closer to her.
"I bet you could find it. On facebook or something. Right?"
Elizabeth almost frowned, but caught herself in time. She kept a small encouraging smile on her face and stared directly into those icy blue eyes. They were colder than usual, and deadened by drink. Perhaps he had had more than she thought.
"Well, maybe, but I don't know his last name or...or..."
His fist was halfway in the air before she noticed the danger and took an involuntary step backward. She couldn't deal with this tonight. The party was less than a week away and the bruises were unlikely to fade by that time. People might ask questions, and Peter would be angrier than ever.
"Of course! Of course, I can find it sweety. I'll invite him right away."
He grunted and lowered his clenched fist. She noticed that his knuckles were already white.
"Good. I wanted to introduce him to a couple of colleagues..."
She swallowed. That didn't mean what it sounded like. It meant he wanted to use Oliver. For what, she wasn't sure, but she was quite sure it couldn't be good. She couldn't have this guy become a large part of her life.

The only thing she could really remember about Oliver was that he was a journalist for the Riverview Times. He had mentioned it that night in the hospital. She called the paper while Peter watched, and asked politely for Oliver. Though she didn't know his last name, a physical description was enough for the receptionist, who called him over. Elizabeth couldn't help the few tears that ran down her face as she thought about the coming party and felt her husband's breath on her neck. She managed to disguise her distress in her voice, however, as Oliver answered cautiously.

"Hello?"
"Hey...Oliver? It's Elizabeth."
He sounded worried as he replied. She noticed the strain in his voice right away.
"Oh. Um...hi."
She forced some enthusiasm into her voice for Peter's sake, but walked over to the window in an attempt to get some measure of privacy. Staring out at the peaceful, but still somewhat unfamiliar, city, she couldn't help letting a few more tears escape.
"I just wanted to invite you to a party on Friday. It's kind of a formal thing for my husband's work."
Oliver was somewhat taken aback. From her response the night before, he had assumed she hated him.
"Oh, hey look, I want to apologize for what happened last night. I was being a little nosy."
Elizabeth glanced sideways at her husband.
"Oh okay. No problem. But you can still make it right? It's at seven at 178, Kennedy Avenue."
He frowned. Why wasn't she answering his question? He wasn't too keen on this party idea, but he wanted to see Elizabeth again.
"Yeah, I guess. See you then. Bye."
Elizabeth hung up, feeling drained. She heard the door open and close behind her before sinking onto the couch and picking up her crossword again. Though her pen moved over the paper, she didn't see what she was writing. Her thoughts were all worries about Oliver, Peter, and everything else. She took two asprin before bed that night.

Oliver stood in the doorway of the ritzy apartment, looking around with something very close to disgust. He'd never seen such a fancy place before, nor did he have any desire to socialize with the people here. They all walked right by him as though he was invisible, though some paused to give him a scathing once-over before moving on. He watched several of these people pass by, wanting to leave more and more each time he got a dirty look.
He had just decided to go back home when he heard Elizabeth's voice. But it was different. Lighter, yes, happier, yes, but more...idiotic.
"Oliver! I'm so glad you could come! Pete, you remember Oliver, we met in the hospital."
He glanced nervously at Peter, but the latter just gave him a cold nod and turned away to engage in conversation with a snotty looking woman holding a champagne glass.
"Hey. Um...nice party."
Elizabeth smiled at him, a dazzling smile showing all her teeth. It was beautiful, but still...vapid. Something was missing.
"Peter holds these little get-togethers on occasion. I'm just the extra set of hands."
She smiled again, and Oliver smiled back, reluctantly.
"That's nice, I guess."
"Yes, isn't it? Well, I'd better get back to my guests. Enjoy yourself, socialize!"
At that, he thought he saw a flicker of something in her eyes, but she was gone before he could respond.

He didn't socialize. Instead, he found a secluded corner and watched Elizabeth network. She was the perfect hostess; flattering, warm, always right on time with the thoughtful looks or the nods, or even the compliments. But there was still something essentially wrong about her. Oliver couldn't put his finger on it. Each time he tried to figure it out, she would glance his way, forcing him to take sudden interest in the coffee table or the ceiling.

Elizabeth could feel his eyes on her. He could see through her act, she could feel it. He knew what was behind it. The thought made her nervous. I have to show him how happy I am. Perhaps that would make him back off. Unfortunately, she was having a hard time convincing herself how happy she was. She turned to an old man she didn't recognize in the slightest.
"Hello Mr. Kennedy, I'm Elizabeth, Peter's wife. How are you?"
The old man peered at her.
"So you're the trophy, eh? Well I must say, you're a fine one. He treating you right, young Peter?"
She forced a smile.
"Yes, he's wonderful. We're very happy together. I hear you're investing in Peter's company..."
She skillfully steered the conversation into business, and at the same time, guided Mr. Kennedy away from Oliver's prying eyes.

He was still watched her with interest for most of the party, half admiring, half incredulous. She was fantastic at networking. Oliver was a reporter; he knew social skills when he saw them. He never would have thought it of her. She manipulated the people in the room skillfully, artfully, but with a blankness on her face. Almost as though she had vanished beneath the sea of unfamiliar personalities.
"She's quite something, isn't she?"
Oliver jumped about a foot in the air, then turned around to face the man who had spoken. It was Peter, who was regarding his wife with distinct amusement.
"Yes. Yes she is."
There was a definite coolness to his voice. Whatever Elizabeth's troubles were, this guy was definitely part of them. Peter's cold blue eyes snapped back to Oliver's face.
"Enjoying yourself?"
He nodded mutely, trying to force some politeness back into his voice.
"It's a lovely party."
Despite all his efforts, his tone still wasn't very polite. Oliver had always had a problem hiding dislike for someone. His aloofness did not pass unnoticed. Peter looked quickly at Elizabeth again, then leaned in uncomfortably close to Oliver.
"She's a lovely girl, my wife. You know..."
He suddenly straightened up and took a healthy swig of champagne.
"If somebody tried to take her from me, I might just go crazy."
Oliver stared as he walked over to Elizabeth.

Elizabeth had just finished chatting with Mrs. Humphreys when she felt Peter's hands on her waist. Turning, she found him smiling gently down at her the same way he had five years ago. She had been just eighteen then, and that smile had made her melt. Now, her gaze went straight to his eyes. His eyes never changed as his personality seemed to. They were always the same chips of pale blue ice. She focused on their coldness as he pulled her closer, kissing her gently and passionately. He never did this at parties. Open displays such as this one were saved for after the guests had left. She kissed him back, but only for the sake of the watching guests. For some reason, her eyes flickered involuntarily towards Oliver. Then she understood. Peter was staking his territory. He'd done it often enough, with various boys that had been interested in her. But he had never invited one to a party simply to do so.

Oliver stood in the doorway, staring at Elizabeth and Peter. His face was unreadable, but his torrent of emotion was nearly immobilizing. That jerk couldn't have her. Oliver wasn't stupid, or illogical, but he realized now that this was more than a physical attraction. He also realized there was nothing he could do. His helplessness only increased his anger, and he watched with various wild scenarios playing through his mind until he couldn't take it any more.

Elizabeth heard the door slam and broke gently away from Peter. Though she forced at automatic smile at her husband, part of her was yearning to run after Oliver, convince him to come back, even to kiss him- She broke the thought off right there. Of course Oliver had left. Hopefully, she would never have to see him again. He would interfere; he was one of those caring types. Besides, she was happy. Who wouldn't be? She had a handsome husband, more money than she needed, and she was young and beautiful. All these thoughts rang hollow in her mind, but she forced herself to believe them. After all, if she didn't believe them, what could she believe?

After the party, Peter led Elizabeth into the study, pouring himself a drink while she took a seat on the couch. She felt a slight fluttering of nerves as she watched him, wondering why exactly they were in here. Not that Peter drinking was anything unusual. There was a reason they had their own private bar.
"It was a nice party."

Peter paused, then took a healthy swig of whiskey.
"Yes. Yes it was. Thank you for sealing the deal with Mr. Kennedy by the way."
"I was glad to do it."
He nodded and smiled crookedly.
"Unfortunately, I'm going to have to go away for a week or so to plan a location for our new branch plant. You'll be able to manage without me, won't you?"

He sat next to her on the narrow sofa and touched her hand gently.
"After all, I wouldn't want mon petite fleur getting into trouble!"
She nodded slowly. There was something hidden beneath his friendly tone. Barely suppressed anger. It was difficult for her to detect, because he'd never hidden something like that before. She shifted uneasily, trying to decide how to placate him. Finally, she decided to imitate his falsely playful tone.
"Silly of you, darling. What trouble do I ever get in?"
He leaned closer.
"Well, you seem to have gotten into some trouble with that boy...What was his name again?"
So that was it. Strange, he'd never gotten worked up over any of the others who'd shown interest. Not that she'd ever cheated. She was a faithful wife. He stood, and so did she, sensing danger.
"I don't remember. He wasn't important."

Peter was now so close, it was uncomfortable. She took an involuntary step backward.
"Yet, you spent the entire evening looking at him out of the corner of your eye. You bent over backwards to impress him. You even looked at him while you were kissing me! Not that I mind you looking at other men, my little flower. But it wasn't just looking, was it? You've met him one too many times. And so, I must make sure that you can't do anything with him while I'm gone. Don't worry, it will only hurt for a moment."

"No. Peter, you're wrong. I love YOU. Only you. You don't have to..."
There was crushing pain, then blackness.

minor warning, there's some swearing ahead, and also some darker themes in the coming chapters. well, okay, the story's already kinda dark, but it get's a little worse.

"Elizabeth."
She stared out the window, face set in an icy mask, refusing to turn around and look at him.
"Elizabeth."
She counted to ten, wondering with a strange detachment how long he would be patient.
"Elizabeth, look at me."
No. She only said it mentally, however, still refusing to glance at the man who had trapped her. She had changed. Something in her life, something in her mind, she didn't know what, but something had snapped. Perhaps it had been Oliver. Perhaps it had been Peter's most recent actions. Whatever the reason, everything was stripped away, all false ideals, everything she'd ever done to convince herself of her own happiness. The denial had abated, leaving only icy determination and barely suppressed panic. She was surprised at how the two emotions could coexist in her mind, and yet be the only two things she felt. Maybe I'm cracking up.
"ELIZABETH! Turn. Around. NOW!"
He was losing his patience. She looked out the window again, noticing a pidgin strutting on the sidewalk below and a happy family crossing the street. Her eyes drifted to the horizon where the sun was setting, casting a bloody glow over the city. He would have to leave for his flight soon. Suddenly, she felt herself turn violently, until she was directly facing him. Even then, she didn't look into his eyes, focusing instead on the slight furrow between his eyebrows.

He had put her in a wheelchair to keep her at home. A wheelchair. The occasional bruising was fine. That, she had put up with. But his control over her was gone now. Everything she had convinced herself of had completely disappeared. He had only fractured a couple of ribs, but it had been enough to confine her to a wheelchair for two weeks. It had all been very neat, very tidy. But she was finished with him. As soon as he left, he would see.
"Elizabeth..." he began with a whine she had become accustomed to, whenever she had gotten angry at him before. Admittedly, it hadn't been very often thanks to her descent into almost complete denial.

His eyes were wide and pitiful, his face the picture of regret.
"Oh Lizzy, I didn't want to do this to you! I had to! You don't know how it feels, thinking you're going to lose someone you love. I'm overprotective, I know it. But it's for the sake of us. For the sake of our relationship."
It was a pretty speech, even a somewhat original one. She'd never have expected it of him. Perhaps he scented danger. But still, she was mute.
"Look, when I get back, we'll go on a vacation. Just the two of us. We can learn to forgive, perhaps even learn to forget."

Elizabeth finally looked up to meet his eyes. But it wasn't a forgiving look, or even one acknowledging his eloquence. It was a glare, a glare of hatred so icy that it pierced right through his remorseful act, stripping away his false regret and revealing his true nature. He took one look at her face and straightened up angrily.
"Fine. I see how you want it, you ungrateful little bitch. I've given you everything! Everything you have, it's because of ME. Well from now on, you're not getting anything. You're not even a good fuck any more. I don't know why I don't chuck you out on the street."
He turned to go, leaving her to sort out her unruly emotions, but not before giving her a final parting insult.
"Slut."

She waited for the click of the door in the hallway. The minute she was sure he had left, she stood. Slowly, painfully, but she still stood. He didn't know that the wheelchair was only a recommendation. On her own feet at last, Elizabeth stood at the window and watched her husband get in a waiting limo and drive away. But after he was gone, she didn't know what to do. If only there was something stable about her life. Somewhere she could go, something she could do. She needed to sort things out. She needed a lawyer, but she also needed a friend.

Oliver had been in the library all day, looking up historical facts for an article. His boss wanted it done by Friday, and thanks to several hours of dull work, he was ahead of schedule. The work may have been dull, but it was helping him forget recent events. Particularly Elizabeth. He had never needed a distraction from a female any more. Every time his phone rang, he lunged for it, hoping it would be her. And he had to resist driving past her house every day. He had just closed his last book when his phone rang. Out of pure habit, he lunged for it, though he didn't really expect Elizabeth's voice to come out of the earpiece. When it did, he grinned easily.
"Oliver? It's Elizabeth."
"Oh, hey! How are you?"
There was a very pregnant pause, during which he wondered if the simple question had gone too far.
"Um, well, I just wanted to apologize for that party."
"You were just being a good hostess."
"No I wasn't, I was trying to convince you to back off, in the most obvious and irritating way possible. It was completely inexcusable, and I really am sorry."
He digested this. So that had been what she was doing. He had wondered for a while, but he was glad to have his suspicions confirmed and apologized for.
"Well I forgive you."
"....Thanks Oliver."
There was another pause, during which he tried to get up the nerve to ask her out for lunch.
"Hey-"
"Um-"
They both laughed a little, then Elizabeth said,
"Do you want to go out for lunch sometime?"
"Sure, I'd love to! Um, when?"
"Well, I'm kind of free now..."

They met at the cafe after half an hour. Elizabeth had dressed with rather more attention than she usually gave her clothing, but she had removed all her makeup. She didn't like the feeling of it on her skin. It felt like more pretending, which she had decided to stop doing...up to a point. Oliver decided she looked very nice indeed, although he noticed a slight stiffness in the way she sat that suggested injury.
"Does Peter know you're here?"
Was it just his imagination, or had she shuddered a little bit at the sound of his name?
"My husband is out of town at the moment. Though you should know that I'm filing for a divorce when he gets back."
"Oh. Sorry."
"Nothing to be sorry about!"

After that brief exchange, neither of them mentioned Peter again. They spent a pleasant evening talking about everything from books to jobs and back again. Both of them were sorry to see the day end. Elizabeth in particular enjoyed a feeling of companionship she'd never had before. There always seemed to be an ease in talking to Oliver that she didn't feel with anyone else. A sense of comfort. And Oliver saw her smile, really sincerely smile, for the first time ever. After lunch, they both stood awkwardly, waiting for the other to say something.

Finally, Elizabeth stepped forward and hugged him.
"Thanks for today, Oliver. I had a great time."
He had trouble getting over the scent of her hair enough to reply.
"Um...yeah. I mean, me too. Maybe...maybe we could do it again sometime? The art gallery's having an opening I'd love to see."
She pulled away and beamed at him.
"I'd like that! When does it start?"
"Well...tomorrow."
"I'll meet you there at ten?"
"Oh! Yeah. Sure, I guess."

They spent a lot of time together over the next week. With Peter away, Elizabeth managed to feel a freedom she was quite unused to. Without realizing it, the pair became more and more infatuated with each other. They went to art galleries, cafes, museums, even spent time in the library. Oliver was continually surprised by Elizabeth. Though she had a quality of wisdom and sadness to her that was quite beyond her years, she had a childlike fascination with things he found quite commonplace. On Friday evening, almost a week after that first disastrous party, they lingered a little longer than usual in saying goodbye.

"Oliver, you're such a good friend. I know people don't really say that to each other any more, but I suppose I'm old fashioned."
He laughed a little, finding the scent of her hair, as usual, quite distracting.
"You are really old fashioned, yeah. But I appreciate it. You're a good friend too."
She smiled suddenly, revealing perfect white teeth that he never ceased to admire.
"I'll see you later then."
Somewhere between the "I'll" and the "then", he lost control. Gently, he leaned in to kiss the married woman he'd met just over two weeks ago.

She flinched at his touch as though she had been burned, and pushed him firmly away. Elizabeth hadn't been ready for it. But the reason she'd pulled away wasn't because she didn't want the kiss -quite the opposite. She felt something stir inside of her, and suddenly he tore away what remained of her self control...almost.
"Oliver...I'm sorry...I can't. Not now. I have to sort out my marriage...and...and...oh no."
He backed away.
"Hey, look, I know that was stupid of me. I'm sorry."
"No, it's not that, it's...Oh SHIT!"
He'd never heard her swear before.
"His plane lands in five minutes. I have to go."
He watched her run into the darkness, feeling a weight of anxiety settle over him like a cloud. Something very bad is going to happen to her.

Great updates! Can't wait for more. :D

thank you, I'm really glad you like it!

So this is the last chapter that I actually have pictures and such for, but you'll hear from Elizabeth and Oliver again soon, I promise! There will be two parts to it. I will also post an epilogue soon, and a chapter after this with all the credit deserved by creators and people who have helped me (albeit indirectly) create this. Hope you all like it and a huge thanks to the people who have commented so far.

Peter was waiting for her when she opened the front door. She could see the rage on his face as he greeted her like a naughty child.
"So. Lizzy. You managed to get out."
Her mind raced wildly, trying to figure out what to say that would keep him off. Nothing came to mind.
"Were you doing something with whatshisface?"
The last comment sparked something inside of her. She looked directly into his eyes, straightening her shoulders and suddenly becoming conscious of the fact that she was nearly as tall as he was.
"His name is Oliver, Pete. And we need to talk."
He looked at her in surprise. But there was something else in his expression. Elizabeth started to search his face, but stopped herself. She didn't care what he thought or did any more.
"Okay...let's talk."
She should have felt caution at his easy consent, but she was beyond caution at that point.

Elizabeth led the way into the bedroom and sat down on the edge of the bed. Peter watched her for a moment before crossing the room and sitting beside her. His face was inscrutable, his blue eyes unreadable for once. She had never seen that before. But then, she had changed. Everything had changed. She wasn't willing to be trapped in a marriage that was becoming increasingly more difficult, and increasingly more harmful. He was like a toxic gas. She saw that now. He had poisoned everything about her; from her personality to her freedom. With all those thoughts and more occupying her mind, Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak.
"I..."
He was leaning close to her, all of the sudden.
"Lizzy...I missed you. You're so beautiful."
She blinked. She had been expecting rage, jealousy, anything but compliments. She wasn't prepared for compliments.
"I've been faithful to you, my love. But men have needs. Before we talk...what do you say to a little ice breaker?"
So that was it. She had wondered for a moment whether her opinions were justified. There was a core of steel inside of her that refused to melt. As Peter leaned in to kiss her, she pushed him away. Just as she had pushed Oliver. She would come to regret both actions.

Suddenly, he was angry.
"Hey!"
"No, Peter. No."
She stood, and he followed suit. She could feel his hot breath on the back of her neck. She whirled around, her anger piqued just as much as his was.
"I want a divorce. You've convinced me of this marriage for too long."
It was as if a dam had broken. The moment the words came, they were flooding out of her. She yelled for the first time in years. And for once, Peter was speechless.
"You're an abusive, controlling, psychopath business man with too much power and good looks! I want nothing more to do with you. And if you so much as TOUCH me, I will be adding much more than divorce to your legal issues."
He was shocked for a moment, but only for a moment.

Elizabeth had not accounted for his violence, or the fact that his rage outweighed his logic when he was angry. And he was very, very angry. In five seconds, she was trying to placate the dragon she had poked in the eye. The icy pillar was still standing strong, but survival instincts and fear were added to her whirling pool of emotions.
"You BITCH!"
He suddenly towered over her again, more threatening than anything she'd ever encountered. Her heart kept beating faster and faster, like the heart of a frightened bird. Her mouth dry, she made one last courageous remark.
"You can hit me, Peter. But you can't take away what I said to you."
Her voice was suddenly devoid of emotion, blank as her face, as she prepared for the violence that would come.

The first blow didn't hurt, though she felt blood at the corner of her mouth. Nor did the second, aimed at her cheekbone. But by the third punch, she began to feel again. And by the seventh, she was begging for it to stop. When he was finished, she opened one blurry eye to see him walk out of the bedroom. She didn't dare to move until she heard the slam of the front door. Then, she made her painful way over to the phone and called the one person she trusted enough to tell the truth.

Oliver received the tearful phone call at exactly ten minutes to midnight. By twelve o clock AM, he was standing in the doorway to the still strange and unfamiliar apartment.
"Elizabeth?"
There was no response. He made his way through the darkened hallways until he saw her. She was crouched in the corner of the bedroom, face buried in her hands, dark hair messy and tangled. He crossed the room in two strides and put his hands on her shaking shoulders.
"Beth...let me see."
She recognized his voice through the pounding of blood in her ears.
"I'm so stupid."
Oliver was already having a hard time controlling his anger, but at that, he nearly exploded. He wanted to chase that man to the ends of the earth and...But he also wanted to help Elizabeth. She was the most important thing.
"You're not stupid. He's...just let me see, Beth. Please."

She allowed him to pull her gently to her feet, but swayed alarmingly the minute she stood. Oliver looked at her battered face, the skin already purple and shiny, and his hands curled into fists.
"Oh my god, Beth...Look, we have to get you to a hospital. Is it just your face, or...?"
She shook her head slightly, but that was all she could manage before the tears erupted.

He did the only thing he could think of and took her into his arms, stroking her hair gently.
"It's okay, it's okay. He's gone. I promise, he's gone."
Elizabeth didn't respond to this, but just let her tears flow freely. She cried out all five years of her terrible marriage on Oliver's shoulder. Every time she tried to stop, she got a vision of Peter's livid face and broke down again. Eventually, the pain all over her body made itself known through the sorrow.
Oliver noticed her wavering balance and tightened his arms. She let out a small cry of pain in response. Immediately, he loosened his hold and pulled away a little.
"We've got to get you to a hospital."
She shook her head and said thickly,
"I hate ambulances. My dad had a heart attack..."
"No need. My car's outside. Can you walk downstairs?"
Elizabeth wasn't all to sure about that. Everything was a confused muddle.
"I..."
He picked her up and carried her.

Nurse Mary had her shift at the hospital again that night. She recognized the girl from before, but the man carrying her was not her husband, though he was vaguely familiar. She didn't waste time asking any questions this time, just got the girl settled on a stretcher, and after a quick examination, hooked her up to an IV of painkillers and wheeled her towards the elevators. Oliver felt strangely helpless as he watched them stick needles into her arms and strap her onto a stretcher. All he could do was hold her hand. When they started moving her however, he followed.
"Where are you going?"
The nurse didn't respond right away, but waited for the elevator doors to open.
"We have to take her upstairs."
This was not a helpful response. Nonetheless, he followed. Whatever was wrong with her, he wanted to know, he wanted to help.

He ran after the nurse up until they wheeled Elizabeth through a pair of double doors, where a staff member stopped him.
"Sorry, you can't follow her in there."
"She needs SURGERY?"
Now that he couldn't help her any more, Oliver was panicking. He was torn between hunting down Peter and pestering the doctors until they told him what was wrong.
"Sorry, I can only speak to family."
"I'm her brother. Just tell me what's the matter."
The guy looked at him strangely, but pushed open the doors.
"I'll check for you."

The nurse or technician or whatever he was was back out in a moment, talking to Oliver with a new expression, sort of a professional sympathy.
"She does need surgery, I'm afraid. Her ribs had been fractured previously, and didn't completely heal before her new injuries. As a result, we need to operate to set them properly, as well as staunch some internal bleeding. The surgery is relatively low risk, but we can't tell how far the bleeding has gone until we cut her open."
Oliver sagged against a wall.
"I'll kill him."
The guy didn't quite here the whisper, but he did pat Oliver on the arm.
"She'll be okay, I'm 84% sure."
As far as hospital staff went, this particular nurse was not very comforting. Oliver just nodded and asked if he could stay and look in the window.

Elizabeth lay under the bright lights of the operating room, surrounded by various strange pieces of equipment, along with masked doctors and nurses. It was all alien enough to make several more tears leak out of her eyes. Before long though, the anesthesia had kicked in and everything grew blurry. She was only awake long enough to see the surgeon make the first cut.

*end of part one*

Oliver stayed with her that night. He went out in the morning to obtain breakfast and a cup of strong coffee before returning to her bedside and watching her sleeping form with the same helplessness he'd felt outside the operating room. She had pulled through the operation without any problems, and would recover completely, though she was likely to have a scar on her face where, apparently, she had been cut by a ring. Oliver had listened to the nurses with an expressionless face, but inside, his anger was nearly uncontrollable. He wanted more than anything to kill the man who had done this to her. But he couldn't leave Elizabeth. Not now.

He gave a start. He had been staring absently at her battered face, but it took him a moment to realize she was looking back at him.
"Beth?"
She blinked slowly.
"What...where...Peter."
She was vaguely aware of the pain in her side and her face, but her numb mind lodged only on her husband.
"I have to...I have to go...He'll be angry..."

She started to sit up and swing her legs over the side of the bed, as if to leave. Oliver jumped to his feet and pushed her gently back against the pillows.
"Beth, no. You can't go yet, you're pumped full of drugs. You'll hurt yourself."
He kept his voice gentle, but his insides writhed painfully as he watched her fear of Peter in action. She didn't seem to hear him, but sat up again. This time, however, she gasped with pain and fell back against the pillows.
"It hurts."
Oliver reached over and pushed the button to call a nurse.
"They can give you something for that, don't worry."
Elizabeth looked at him. Looked around the room. Then rolled over onto her side, facing the wall opposite Oliver.

"I remember now."
He wasn't sure quite what to make of it. Cautiously, he laid a hand on her shoulder. She shrugged it off.
"Oliver, you should go."
"Wha...why? I want to help you."
Elizabeth shook her head, still staring blankly at the wall. She couldn't stand it. He was here, watching her shame herself. Watching her weakness. She couldn't hide it any more than he could avoid seeing it.
"I don't want help."
Oliver was completely thrown by her sudden change in demeanor.
"Beth...what's the matter? I mean, that was a stupid question, everything's the matter. But what have I done wrong? Why..."
Elizabeth heard his voice crack and glanced over at him. He looked tired.
"You haven't done anything. I just...I don't want to lean on anybody."
"Sometimes you have to. Please talk to me. Let me help you."

There was a knock on the door. Elizabeth rolled onto her back again and stared through the glass. She couldn't help remembering the last time there had been a knock at her hospital door. It turned out just to be the nurse, who came armed with a needle.
"You called for medication?"
Oliver looked up at him.
"Ahhh. Yeah. She said it hurt."
Elizabeth looked at the needle, then up at the nurse.
"Will that make me tired? Or cloud my judgment? Or anything like that?"
"It does sometimes inhibit mental capacity. But under the circumstances-"
"Thank you, I don't want any."
She glanced over at Oliver, who looked astonished. He wouldn't understand. Now that she remembered, she had to think. She had to plan. But mostly, she had to recover mentally before allowing the drugs to slip her back into a daze. The nurse shrugged and walked out of the room, leaving the needle on her bedside table.
"Get your brother to give you an injection if you need it."
She waited until he'd left the room, then looked at Oliver.
"My brother?"
"They wouldn't tell me if you were okay unless I was family."
She pushed herself further up on the bed, wincing.
"Thank you."
"I love you."

He said it without thought, without planning, and without intention. She froze in place and the only sound in the room was her shallow breathing.
"Do you mean that?"
Oliver shook his head, but not to indicate denial. To indicate helplessness.
"I couldn't leave the hospital. I tried to go home, but I had to be there when you woke up. I stayed up all night with you. The very thought of the creep who did this to you makes me want to grab a knife and stab him in the back of his head, just enough to make him bleed out slowly. If that's not love, I don't know what is."
It was the longest speech he'd ever given her, and she stared at him with a mixture of emotion on her face for a full thirty seconds.

Then she reached up and kissed him.

Elizabeth began to recover quickly. Oliver went to visit her every day, and they spent hours just talking. She refused all pain medication however, and on bad days she didn't talk, just squeezed his hand until he thought his knuckles would break. Eventually, at her request, the hospital staff moved her to a recovery room with a window. There was nothing to look at but a blank balcony, but Elizabeth was stir crazy enough at that point to want to look even at that, just to make sure there was something beyond the walls of the hospital. She soon mastered the trick of getting out of bed and into her wheelchair, even though it hurt. Being immobilized had never been fun for Elizabeth.

On her third day in the hospital, Oliver came a little later than usual. She was sitting, staring out the window as usual.
"Does it hurt today?"
She shook her head wordlessly. He always got upset when she was in pain. Or at least when he knew about it. She had just stopped complaining lately, afraid to see that look in his eyes.
"Good."
Elizabeth glanced at him sharply.
"I don't like your excitement...what have you been up to?"
He smiled a little.
"I was just thinking about your future. What are you going to do when you get out of here?"
She sighed.
"I've been trying not to think about it. I suppose I'm going to get a good divorce lawyer and try to have Peter thrown in jail on domestic abuse charges. Then...I'll...go home."
"You don't want to, do you?"
She shook her head.
"Too many memories. I need somewhere to start over, somewhere to screw my head on straight. And I need space. I love you, Oliver, and I want to move in with you, but..."
He smiled even wider, contrary to her expectations.
"I have news on that score. Hey mom, come on in!"

Oliver's mother was a short, frail looking woman with hair as white as paper and eyes that sparkled even in the depressing atmosphere of a hospital. She walked with a slight limp, though Elizabeth detected no cane in her hand and no unsteadiness in her balance when she stood still. Oliver walked over to her and gave her a hug.
"Mom, this is Elizabeth. Elizabeth, this is my mother."
Elizabeth turned around and wheeled herself over to the old woman.
"It's wonderful to meet you, Mrs-"
"Oh, just call me Lily."
She twinkled down at Elizabeth, who managed a genuine smile, though Lily noticed dark shadows around her eyes and a trembling about her lip. Well, that was to be expected with what the poor girl had been through. Oliver reached over to take Elizabeth's hand.
"Mom's agreed to let you stay with her to give you some peace of mind.

Elizabeth looked up in surprise. For a moment she was lost for words, but she found her tongue eventually.
"That's extraordinarily kind of you, are you sure?"
Lily spoke without a moment's hesitation.
"Of course I am, dear. You've been through hell, you need some quiet and healing. And my cottage is certainly quiet. I'll get you settled in the guest room, and we'll both have all the privacy we need if you take the downstairs bathroom. Besides, I need somebody to help me in the garden and around the house; I'm not exactly young, you know, and I've just had surgery."

Elizabeth checked out of the hospital two days later. Lily and Oliver accompanied her down to the waiting room and provided the two signatures needed to assure her early dismissal. She had no clothes other than the ones she had worn that night, so she stayed in her hospital gown. The secretary gave her an odd look, but shrugged and opened the door for them as they walked out. Elizabeth filled her lungs with fresh air for the first time in a week, and smiled broadly despite herself.

Lily's house was indeed peaceful, just at the edge of the city and surrounded by a charming garden. I looked relatively spacious, if compact, and there was a car parked in the driveway. I could live here.

The inside was just as cozy as the outside looked. Elizabeth left her wheelchair at the front door, and padded barefoot into a small living room. Lily turned on a lamp, then sat next to Elizabeth on the couch. Oliver started to seat himself in the armchair, but Lily held up one veined hand.
"Oliver dear, I think you need to say goodbye to Elizabeth for now. She needs space, peace, and quiet, none of which you offer. Though love is the best medicine once initial recover has taken place."
She smiled gently at her son. He looked over at Elizabeth, who nodded, a sad smile on her face.
"Okay. Beth, I love you. I'll see you....when you're ready. I'll see you when you're ready."

The two women had a long talk sitting on that couch. When evening fell, Elizabeth was settled in the guest bedroom, had plans for the next two months, and had watered the old woman's flowers. She felt almost calm for the first time in years.
"Lily...thank you."
Before Oliver's mother could respond, Elizabeth had hugged her.
I'm going to be all right now. We all are.

I couldn't leave out a thanks to creators and such, could I? I absolutely suck at making cc of any kind (I've tried, it hasn't been pretty) so I have to use other people's hard work for storytelling. Now, I probably used custom content for this particular story without knowing the creator's name off by heart. (I install a lot of .package files AND sims 3 files, so.)

Ahem! So, here are the ones that I DO remember.

cmomoney for the fantabulous pose player. Seriously, this thing is a storyteller's dream. nuff said.

Simul8rReviews for the depression pose pack. I only used them once or twice in this particular thingymabob, but they're really just what I needed, and extremely well done so thank you!

Elizabeth's hair is one of Nouk's, converted by Anubis360: the long wavy hair. It's beautifully done.

The hospital set by Hekate999 is sheer brilliance. It allowed me to create the set for a lot of the story. I can seriously not thank this creator enough.

Thanks a lot to HystericalParoxysm too for being really nice about me submitting chapter two as a separate thread (it was my first time, okay?) and sending it back to me!

That is pretty much it for credit.
oh yeah, wait, also thank you to everybody who read and liked this and thanked me! thank you...for thanking me? yeah.

Woah!
Oh man, I just came on here and saw like SO MANY updates you made! But dangit, I just read them all and I feel like the story fell too short~. Oliver's an amazing dude, and Elizabeth is already forming a great personality of her own. I'd love to see more adventures of this couple, can't wait!

Oui! I agree with the above wholeheartedly. Can't wait to read more about Oliver and Elizabeth. Amazing er...prequel? {{hint hint}} ^^

Glad you guys liked it , and yes, it is pretty much a prequel. I just made it to test the waters really, first story and all that jazz, so I'm working on a longer one that will include a couple more characters....won't say more there, but I think I have a good idea....

I apologize for the delay in updates, it was supposed to be up a while ago but I was stupid and didn't save my work before my computer started swearing at me ...*takes deep calming breaths* ANYWAY, I really hope you all enjoy!

She paused in front of the elevator, steeling herself before pressing the up button. The girl was short, with fiery red hair and violet eyes. She wore no contacts, that was just the way they were. It was the only part of her face she actually liked. (Note: When I played with genetics in create-a-sim her eyes were actually like that. No edits. sorry, unnecessary. ahem.) She took a deep breath as she watched the floors flash by, trying to steady her nerves and her stomach. She hadn't been able to hold anything down lately. Though it took her a while to get up the courage, but there was no hesitance in her stride when she walked into the room.

The secretary was just starting to get bored when the door opened. A petite redhead strode into the room, gave its contents a cool stare, then spoke to the woman behind the desk.
"I have an eight thirty appointment with Dr....uh...Rya-Richards?"
The secretary raised an eyebrow, giving the girl a quick once-over. She looked about sixteen or seventeen, but she held herself in a way that belonged to someone much older. She looked different, but not in an awkward way. It was more of a confidence. Her voice too was mature; sultry and low with a hint of an accent the secretary couldn't place. Russian maybe?
"Name?"
The girl hesitated.
"Tiyana Edwards."
The secretary looked at her computer screen, confirmed the date, and nodded towards the archway on the other side of the room.
"Dr. Richards is expecting you."

She headed through the archway and down a simple hallway. She wound up in a room that was an odd combination of study, den, and living room. The walls were wood paneled and the bookshelves were Victorian style, suggesting affluence and academia. But the easel and obviously quickly done sketches that littered the walls reminded Tiyana of an art studio. Then there were the comfy looking armchairs and the woman seated in one of them.

The woman, who Tiyana assumed was Dr. Richards, managed to look warm and welcoming even while wearing what was possibly the most business like outfit the girl had ever seen.
"Welcome, Tiyana. I'm Dr. Anne Richards."
Tiyana nodded and sat down slowly on the edge of her seat.
"Nice to meet you."
The woman raised an eyebrow.
"Is it?"
Tiyana kept her face blank and shrugged, hiding her appreciation of the comment.
"I'll take that as a no."
Her eyes flickered down to the teenager's hands, which were wringing in her lap. When the scrutiny was noticed, they grew still.
"Would you like to play chess?"
Tiyana, who had stilled her hands with a force of will, was taken aback at the offer. Dr. Richards didn't give her any hints, just gave her a level stare that was both questioning and slightly probing.
"Yeah, sure."
How had she known Tiyana was a chess fan?

When they were seated at the chess table, Dr. Richards fixed her with another look.
"White always goes first."
There was a double meaning to her words. Tiyana didn't miss it for a second.
"You want me to spill my guts don't you?"
"It depends entirely on how you play chess. White plays first, but whether you plunge right in or try to get an idea of your opponents tactics is entirely up to you."
The girl blinked, slightly thrown. Eventually, she reached for her pawn and moved one space forward.
"My dad made me come."
The older woman moved her own pawn two spaces forward.
"Why?"
Tiyana sighed and reached for another pawn.
"I was trying to convince him to get my mother help. Instead, he decides I'M the one who's screwed up."
"Tell me about your mother then."
The doctor moved her rook into a better position.

Tiyana shook her head slightly. "I come home to her drunk most days..."
The first step through the doorway was always a moment of dread. The door was locked that particular Saturday; a bad sign. It meant her father was working late again that night. The smell of alcohol hit her nose as she stepped gingerly into the front hall. Her house was both huge and minimalist, intensifying the silence.
"Mom? I'm home!"
She didn't really expect an answer. Dropping her bag by the door, she hurried down the hall and to her mother's bedroom. A gentle knock at the door yielded nothing, so she turned the handle. The sight that met her eyes was sad, but not unexpected. Her eyes traveled over the piles of clothes, various pools of liquid, and settled on the prone form lying in the bed.

She sat down on the edge of the bed, looking over at her mother.
"Mom?"
No response.
"Mom."
Still nothing. Tiyana felt a familiar frustration rise in her. Frustration at the fact that her mother was like this, frustration at her father for not helping, and frustration that all responsibility rested on her shoulders.
"MOM!"
The woman didn't move. It was as if she hadn't shouted at all. She pounded the bed, then stood to go get a mop. Even the maid left her mother's room to her.

Thankfully, the mess wasn't as bad as it could have been. She had just started working when there was a familiar voice behind her. She froze in place.

Slowly, Tiyana turned to look at her mother. The woman was stirring on the bed.
"Sweety, you shouldn't be d-doing that."
"Somebody has to, Mom."
"You're a good kid, sweetheart. You're a goo-good kid."
Tiyana pressed her lips together and looked away.
"Shtay this way, sweety."
The girl didn't respond, just finished cleaning. Eventually, her mother closed her eyes again.

"My dad got home early that day. Otherwise, I wouldn't have seen him..."
She greeted him before he got in the door, hands on her hips and wiry frame tense and fierce.
"Dad, we need to talk."
He looked tired, but he always looked tired. She ignored it and kept talking.
"About mom."
A resigned expression appeared on his face.
"Sweety, can't that wait? I've had a long day-"
She interrupted him.
"You've ALWAYS had a long day. I hardly ever see you."
He ran a hand through his hair.
"I know, I know."
It only took that simple gesture of dismissal to set her off.
"Do you even CARE that mom's a drunk? That she's still depressed and she's NOT GETTING BETTER! SHE ISN'T GOING TO GET BETTER! And you know why...do you even care? You don't care about any of us!"
He held up his hands and made pacifying gestures, which she ignored.
"I mean, I'm FUCKING PREGNANT, and-"

"You're WHAT?"
It was Tiyana's turn to be cautious.
"I...uh...that's not the point, okay?"
Her father checked his watch.
"Look, sweety, I'll get you some help, okay? Someone to talk to. I have to catch a flight out of town."
She sagged against the fence.
"I wanted...mom..."
But he was already leaving, running towards a car that had just pulled up.
Dr. Richards frowned slightly.
"So you don't think you need this."
Tiyana shook her head firmly.
"Absolutely not."
The older woman reached for her queen.
"Well, I have a different conclusion."
"Look, I'm fine! This pregnancy...it has nothing to do with anything! Everybody thinks I'm troubled or whatever, just because I'm knocked up!"
"I do think you're troubled, but not because of the pregnancy."
She pressed the tips of her fingers together.
"I'll make a deal with you. For every chess game I win, it means another session with me. Once you win, you'll be free to go."
Tiyana looked at the woman, slightly intrigued, slightly cautious.
"Okay."
Dr. Richards smiled.
"Checkmate. See you next week."

Thanks for commenting on my story!

I thought I'd check out yours series as well. It's looking great so far. I think I like Tiyana's story best =] Will the two story arcs mesh together? Or are they going to be separate?

You're welcome, I really liked it.
I haven't decided whether they'll mesh together yet, but I know that there are going to be a couple more characters as well, so they'll probably intersect at some point...

Wow that was really intense. Tiyana's is more captivating but they're both very good. Can't wait to read more!

Sorry it's been so long between updates... :/ school's a giant stressball around this time of year. Anyway, here's the next chapter of Truth and Recovery!
The last of her clients had come and gone, and Anne was preparing to leave for the day.
"I'm going now, Andrea. Thank you so much for coming in, I know you're not feeling well."
Her receptionist smiled, glancing up from her computer screen for a moment.
"Absolutely no trouble. I'm pretty much better anyway. I think I'll stay for the moment and catch up on some work. See you tomorrow!"
Anne smiled. Andrea was always working late. Sometimes she wondered if it was good for the girl.
"All right, lock up behind you."
She was about to leave when she heard the door open and close. She turned around to see a police officer standing behind her.
"Can I help you?"
Anne managed to mask her surprise.

The officer looked embarrassed. She glanced from Andrea to Anne and finally opened her mouth to speak.
"I...uh...Look, Dr. Richards...I need a favor."
Anne looked the woman over.
"If you need an appointment, I'm afraid the office is closed after six."
"No, no. It's nothing like that. I'm not sure where to begin, actually."
She fiddled with the badge on her chest nervously. Anne smiled and said, not unkindly,
"With the beginning."
"All right. Well. There was a homicide over on Jacobson Avenue yesterday. The only witness to the crime was a young girl...about six or seven. It was terrible. I was sent to rope off the area and interview witnesses...and she was just standing there staring. The problem is, she's our only lead. And we need to solve this case."
Anne frowned, and said slowly,
"It is an awful situation but I don't see how I can help."
"The kid won't say a word. We need you to get the story out of her somehow and I've heard you're a great therapist. It would really help if you could come down to the precinct and interview the kid."
"Look...I appreciate you coming to me, but I operate out of an office. I don't feel comfortable involving myself in something like this."
The officer sighed.
"Please. A kid needs your help. And you could solve a murder."
Anne hesitated, glanced at Andrea, then nodded slightly.
"I'll see what I can do."

The precinct itself wasn't too bad, but when Anne was led down to the interrogations rooms, she shuddered slightly. Everything was bare, harshly lit by the fluorescent lights. The walls and floors were gray and the doors were plain and nondescript. Anne tried to imagine how the child would feel in a place like this and failed. The officer held open a door for her and she entered the room. The girl was sitting with another detective looking blankly off into the distance.
"Look, Lucy, sweety, I know it was terrible, but you need to tell us what happened. Don't you want the bad guy to be punished?"
The detective looked intently at the child, but Lucy remained mute.

The officer who had come to ask for Anne in the first place swallowed.
"Dr. Richards, this is Detective Brown and this" she indicated the girl sitting at the table. "is Lucy Owens."
Anne smiled.
"It's a pleasure to meet you both."
The detective stood.
"Lucy, I'm going to leave you with Dr. Richards so you can have a nice chat."
Lucy looked at Anne with the large frightened eyes of a child in pain.
"Don't worry, we'll leave you in complete privacy."
Anne watched them leave the room, then glanced at Lucy.
"Hello."

The detective and the officer stood behind the one way glass, looking at the unlikely aid they had found.
"You really think she'll help?"
"She helped my sister. I think she can help the kid."
They spoke in whispers, keeping their eyes trained on the two people in front of the glass.
Anne looked curiously at Lucy, who looked curiously back.
"Lucy? Do you talk at all?"
The child just looked at her.
"What if I told you...that I could fly? That would be silly, wouldn't it?"
Lucy stared for a moment, then nodded slowly. Anne sighed slightly with relief. Good. She's not completely unresponsive. She leaned forward across the table.
"Want to tell me what happened yesterday?"
Lucy shook her head.

Anne had expected that; if the child had wanted to talk about it she would have done so. Nonetheless, she had hit a wall. Normally, she would have now offered them a creative option; something to do with their hands to put them at ease and make them more comfortable. Here, there was nothing she could do. She folded and unfolded her own hands, wracking her brains to figure out how to comfort the child. She was in shock, that much was obvious, but all interrogation had to take place right there in the police precinct.

Lucy stared stubbornly at the new lady. She was nicer than the police who had only asked her about the murder, but she was still an adult and adults couldn't be trusted. They always lied about everything. Children may have been mean, but at least they were honest. Usually. The lady opened her mouth again.
"Do you like telling stories, Lucy?"
She nodded. How had the lady known that?
"Would you let me tell you a story? And then...maybe...you can tell me one too?"
Lucy hesitated. She did like stories, but it might be a trick. She nodded warily.
"Maybe. Tell me yours first."
Anne stopped herself from smiling in relief. She had spoken. It wasn't much, but it was a start.
"Okay. Well, I work in a big office...tonight, a nice police officer came up to me and asked if I would help her. So, I went with the police officer and learned about a little girl who saw some very bad things happen."
Lucy glared at her.
"That's a stupid story. You just want the same thing they wanted!"
"I'm not finished."
Lucy looked at her with caution.
"Fine. Finish."
"Thank you. After that, I said that I didn't want to talk to the little girl and that she didn't want to talk about it. And they said I should help because it was the right thing to do. I said all I wanted to do was go and get some ice cream and then go home and read. But they made me come, and now I can't leave. I'm trapped here forever, because the little girl doesn't want to tell me and I'll be very sad and lonely and bored for ever and ever."

Lucy was still frowning, but more in a speculative manner than anything else.
"Stories can't have unhappy endings. Stories are supposed to be magical and everything is supposed to turn out happy in the end."
Anne sighed.
"Well, it's not my job to make this story happy. You have to do that."
Lucy was silent again. After a moment, Anne prodded her further.
"You did promise me a story."
Lucy nodded slowly.
"Yes...but I don't know how to tell a good story."
"That's okay, I'll help you. Every story has to have a setting, a plot, and characters. Let's start with the setting."
"What's the setting?"
"It's the place where the story happens. Where is the setting for your story, Lucy?"
The child grew quite still. Anne was worried she had clammed up again, but instead, she started speaking.

"The orphanage. It didn't have a name...it was just a home for little kids like me."
"And what sort of little kid are you?"
"My mommy and daddy are dead, so I'm an orphan. So was everybody else at my home."
"Did you like it there?"
"No. Everybody was mean to me because I have better 'language skills.' That's what Sandra said."
"Who was Sandra?"
"She was our pretend mommy. She was a fake mommy for children who didn't have mommies."
"And you liked Sandra."
"Yes."
"Who else was there?"
"Well there was Meghan and Rosie and Kevin and Robert and Charlie."
"See?"
"What?"
"You CAN tell stories. You just gave me characters and settings. Now all we have to do is come up with a plot!"
Slowly, very slowly, a smile spread across Lucy's face. Behind the one way glass, the detective pulled out her notepad and began to write.

So. First of all, I'm sorry I have to do this. This story has gotten to a point where I am no longer inspired by the characters. Also, my game is swearing at me. I have to completely clean out my .package folder cause some mod/hack/package has messed with my interactions in-game. On top of all that, I have exams in two weeks and if I don't study I don't get good marks and if I don't get good marks I don't get scholarships, etc. etc. etc.
I know this is my first story and it's kind of a dick move to do this, but for these reasons and more I think I have to put this one on hold. I swear, if I ever get interested again I'll pick it back up. Until then, thanks to people who commented and such and special thanks to anybody who helped. Sorry!
xxNaima

Aw, I'm sad to hear it Anyway, good luck on your exams.

me too...but another one will come along once I'm not so busy. I have some ideas.