Frederic Byrd likes to claim that he had feelings for me from the first time we met and was just waiting for me to realize that we were meant to be. It's a story he loves to tell strangers and friends alike and although it usually makes me blush, thinking about it right now makes my insides turn.

I'm putting food away into containers and just generally trying to keep myself busy when I hear a knock on the door. I ignore it hoping the person would leave; saying I'm not in the mood would be an understatement. The knock comes again, more forceful this time.

"Who is it?" I yell, not bothering to walk to the door.

"It's me!" a muffled voice yells back. Ugh, Frederic.

"Who?" I ask again, I really want to be left alone. I'm in the mood to wallow in my sadness.

"Freddie, your boyfriend. Remember me?"

I take a few deep breaths and walk to the door. By the time I open it there's no trace of how I'm feeling on my face. "What are you doing here?" I make sure my voice is as airy as possible.

"I came to see you," he says slowly. His eyes rake over my body and I have the urge to vomit. I keep it inside though; I don't want to raise any suspicions. "I was worried... I can't believe you walked home from the diner. What were you thinking and... weren't you scared?" He whispers the last part as if afraid of what it might imply.

I sigh and look at my feet. Are all men such idiots?

"I was thinking that I wanted to rest after the day I had. and no, I wasn't scared. Why would I have been scared to walk a path I've walked a thousand times before?" I ask him sweetly. Wow, maybe I should become an actress.

He looks past me into the house and back at me as if he was waiting for me to invite him inside. He was going to wait for a long time then.

Clearing his throat loudly, he adjusts his feet before answering my question. "Well... I mean... all sorts of things happen at night." I raise an eyebrow at him.

"Do you want to elaborate on that?"

"I'm proud of you," he tells me, ignoring my question as he puts his hand on my shoulder. I flinch at the contact and he jolts back. "Are you sure you're okay, babe."

"I'm fine, Frederic, just tired from my ballet practice plus I'm famished." My head starts to pound and I'm tired of the façade. "Did you want something else?"

A look of puzzlement crosses his face. "Yeah... I wanted to see you, Annelise."

Not enough to have honored your commitment.

"Well, here I am. Seen. You can go back to your place now." I add a twirl for dramatic effect.

Now he looks hurt. He has the audacity to look hurt. "Look, Annelise, I know you're upset but I'm sorry. I really am, I didn't know I was that worn out from the school day. Please don't be mad."

I feign confusion and let out a laugh, "What makes you think I'm mad, Freddie?"

"Come on, Annelise," he says, cocking his head to the side. "I know you."

He takes a step towards me and I take a step back. "You know me? Because we've been together for over two years you think you know me?" The laugh I let out is a mocking one, "You couldn't be more wrong. Take a good look at me, Freddie, you don't know anything."

"Seriously? Because of one mistake? Don't you think you're overreacting?"

I smile at him and shake my head. "You'd be surprised at the damage one mistake can make. Just go, please."

"Annelise..."

"Go, Frederic." He takes a few steps towards me and I back up until I hit a wall. I start to shake and fear takes over me. "If you come any closer I'll scream. I swear I will."

He studies me carefully, "Annelise, why are you acting like this." Understanding settles on his face. "Did –did something ha –"

"No!"

"I think you should leave, Frederic," Patricia says from the doorway, "No means no."

He looks from Pat to me and back again. "What the heck are you talking about?"

"I'm not going to repeat myself," she moves to the side, leaving the way open. "Leave."

He glances back at me with anger written on his face, "If this is some kind of joke, Annelise, I'm not going to find it funny in the end." As he moves past Pat he gives her an ugly look which she returns in kind.

I wait for her to say something but she only looks me over with an annoyed look, shakes her head and enters the bedroom. I let out a staggered sigh. Relief takes over me; I wasn't ready to lie or fight again.

What do you want? That still and steady voice asks me.

I want to go back in time and phone my best friend. I want to have accepted the ride from Detective Russel. I want to feel whole again. I want to feel alive.

--------------------------

A couple of weeks pass and Patricia is still not speaking to me. I feel her watching me at times but when I look at her she's looking in another direction. The hostility is too much to bear even though I know I'm the cause of it, so I move to the couch. But couch or bed, my dreams are plagued with dark alleys and sticky hands.

Frederic tries to reach me a few times but I never get back to him. He begins to show up at the apartment at odd times but I either pretend I'm not home or ask him to leave politely. Eventually he stops trying.

Mr. Williams' funeral comes and goes and all the employees attend out of respect. That was the first and last time I had seen Franky and Bella since me and Pat's fight and uncomfortable doesn't begin to describe the interaction. His younger brother takes over the business and informs us the diner will be opening in a month after a few renovations.

My audition is in a week and I'm nowhere near ready. The bruises and soreness may have disappeared but I'm still not able to perfect certain moves; the thought that I might have to stand before a male judge with skin tight clothing makes me nervous. There's no way Ms. Bernard hasn't noticed the flaws but she continues to claim the routine is fine. I even tried to convince her to let me stay late after classes to practice but she refused and kicked me out. "It's for your own good, Atalia," she said before slamming the door in my face.

So I enrol at the nearest gym with my free time to build up my strength, but not just for ballet. I will never allow myself to be as weak and vulnerable as I was before. It just so happens that they have a self-defence class so I enrol in that as well. Anything to keep me safe and also out of the house.

Today is the first day and I'm feeling anxious; what does one wear to a self-defence class? Would there be a lot of people? Would the instructors be male or female?

You should have asked all these questions before you signed up, you bozo.

I enter the hall and to my horror but also delight there are only 6 people. 5 females, now including me, and 2 males. One of them is a teenage girl wearing new looking running shoes and bouncing on the balls of her. She reminds me of Franky, always looking ready to beat someone up. I smile and head to her, concluding that she might make a good ally.

"Hi!" she says when I come into her view, "Are you an instructor?"

I laugh lightly, "I'll take that as a compliment that you think I can teach a bunch of people how to defend themselves. None of them have arrived?"

"Not even one. Weird, right?"

"Fashionably late?" I propose and she laughs. Her laugh is contagious to me. Maybe it's the fact that I haven't shared a laugh with the most important person in my life or maybe it's me trying to make light of my life right now but I laugh along. The other attendees give us strange looks but that only makes us laugh the more.

"My name's Diana Rivers, by the way," she tells me when we calm down.

"Annelise Atalia Allard," I reply. Why don't you tell her your age and birthday as well, Annelise Atalia Allard. I can practically see my subconscious rolling her eyes.

"Wow, that's so fancy," she states kindly.

"I am a ballerina after all," I whisper to her, performing a small pirouette for her.

"Wow, that's cool. I think I'll call you Triple A, though," she declares. "Since you're taking self-defence classes you need a tough name."

I let out a snort. "Hey! Ballerina's can be tough and Diana isn't such a hardcore name either." I pause for dramatic effect, "how about D.R. Triple A and D.R."

This sends us into another fit of laughter. "Those sound like whack rapper names," she states, "But I love them."

Before I can reply the door opens and 6 more people walk in. "Sorry peeps, we are still waiting for our last volunteer. In the meantime let me

introduce you to your instructors for the next few weeks." The man who speaks is the owner of the gym and he tells us to address him as Logan. I forget the five other teachers' names as soon as they mention it. I label them as Worn out Plain Nike's, Sparkling New Skechers, Ugly New Balance's, Simple White Reebok's and Horrifying Puma's. Logan is wearing the classic red, white and black Jordans. Somehow I doubt that he actually plays basketball.

"Your coaches have already picked their pairs so we'll split after you introduce yourselves," Logan announces.

When it's my turn I have the urge to say 'Triple A' but I hold it back and simply give my first name.

What's up with you suddenly acting like a teenager, Annelise? Get a hold of yourself.

Logan starts walking towards me after the introductions. I keep my face straight even though my heart is racing. "Sorry, your instructor is the one running late. Sometimes that's how it is with volunteers because they have other responsibilities."

I nod my head and slowly release the breath I was holding when he turns away. I don't know how I would have coped if I had to train with him every other day. He doesn't look like he's dangerous but it would come as no surprise that his size in relation to mine causes me to break out in sweat.

I sit at the side-lines to observe while I wait. It's at this moment that my brain decides to remind me that while Logan might not be the person coaching me, my instructor is still a man.

My heart race speeds up again. I haven't been in close proximity with a man since that night and I'm afraid I won't be able to control my body's reaction and I'll end up embarrassing myself. I pull my knees to my chest and put my head in-between my thighs.

"Ah, Nate, my man! You're finally here. Your student is seated over there," I hear the wannabe basketballer yell but I'm not ready to look up. My instructor and Logan exchange a few more words that I can't make out. A short while later, I hear Logan giving instructions to his pupil, some wrinkly adult that looked like he was going through a midlife crisis, and I know my rest time is over.

You need this, Annelise, I try to encourage myself, think of all the situations you would be able to get out of in just a few weeks. Set some boundaries and you'll be fine.

"Annelise?" a voice asks.

Oh no... it can't be who I think it is. But that voice... that voice still resonates in my head anytime I remember the events of that Friday. Oh God, please don't let it be...

"Detective Russel?" I say, finally looking up.