"You're the only one who didn't run..."

Laurie lay on the couch in the music room. Brahms lay next to her, his back tucked into her chest, sleeping. She took a strand of dark curl, her fingers running along its length, her mind replaying his words over and over.

"You're the only one who didn't run..."

What in God's name am I going to do? By staying I'm putting myself potentially at risk. By staying I'm perpetuating this whole sorry situation. By staying he's falling deeper into my heart...

She could feel the rise and fall of his body as he breathed. His warmth. His scent. The walls of Fern Deane felt as though they were closing in around her. The walls that were hers now. She was wealthy and could live a life she'd only dreamed about before. And yet...and yet...

I have another life somewhere, she thought desolately. Family. Friends. Normality. Laurie knew exactly what Amanda would say. Tell her she was insane. Tell her get out. Tell her to cut and run.

She felt split in two, riven, tortured. That part of her that was strong before Joel, the spark of who she used to be before life beat the innocence out of her; that joyful, hopeful girl who thought she had the whole world at her feet. She wished in that moment she could turn back time and become that girl again. Sixteen and tripping towards a future she'd mapped out in her dreams. Oh, woman, let go of me...

Something her mother used to say came ringing from the past. "Don't be homesick for a place that doesn't exist anymore."

Joel made an appearance, bulling his way into her mind. Belligerent, morose, controlling. She remembered the first day she met him; a warm spring day with a breeze that had lifted his shining hair in thick clumps. He'd been handsome, she'd been shy and he'd seemed so worldly and exciting. But the signs had all been there. She'd just chosen to ignore them.

What is it with me and dangerous men? And you, she wanted to ask Brahms. What of you? Will you turn on me too, one day? Destroy me with your own weaknesses? Just like Joel?

And if she left Brahms? What would become of him then? Laurie gazed down at his poor, terrible scars, the strong brows, thick lashes and tousled hair. She wondered what he might be dreaming about. What it was like to be him. How terrible his introspection must have been shut away for year after year after year? She laid her head close to his, and he moaned softly in his sleep.

They'll lock you away. If I leave you to your fate, they'll come and take you. A single tear slipped treacherously down her cheek. What are you doing to me, Brahms? What am I doing to myself? If I leave you, will you kill again?