Truth

deep breaths as he raced across the street.
    Ignoring Mr. Rawlings’ bellowing voice, Phil hastily entered Claire’s building and approached the security desk, “Has anyone been to unit 4 A recently?” The security guard looked at Phil questionably. Phil repeated himself louder, “The unit that was broken into last week? Has anyone been up there?” Phil could still hear Mr. Rawlings yelling through the phone.
    “ Yes, there was a delivery. The man had the appropriate documents.”
    Phil revealed the picture he’d sent Mr. Rawlings, “Is this the man?”
    The security guard looked at the picture, “I don’t know. He had documents. Yeah, maybe... he was bald.”
    “ Call 911 and get me up there right away!” Phil’s voice rose above Mr. Rawlings’.
     
    *****
     
    Tony could hear everything and do nothing. How long would it take to get up four flights? He disconnected from Phillip Roach and scrolled his contacts, finding Harrison Baldwin. He hit call .
     
    *****
     
    Claire pulled her luggage into the foyer. She’d forgotten about her room being a mess. Maybe Tony didn’t have anything to do with it. If that were the case, she was glad she’d been out of town when it happened. Suddenly, she wished Amber were home.
    Turning on lights, she headed toward the kitchen. Even though Harry was calling for dinner, she thought a little snack might help her nerves before she faced her wrecked room and their conversation. She watched as the overhead lights flooded the living room and darkened the outside world beyond the large windows.
    Which occurred first, the sound of his footsteps or sensing his presence? Claire’s heart raced as she spun around. She recognized the man immediately -- Patrick Chester, the neighbor from Santa Monica. In an attempt to hide her panic, she feigned indignation, “What are you doing in my house?”
    He walked toward her, his beady eyes narrowing while his smile widened.
    She repeated her question, “What are you doing in my house? Get out!”
    He continued forward. She backed toward the windows and assessed an escape. If she ran through the kitchen, could she get back to the door and out before him?
    “ You made me think you’re Anton’s daughter.” Patrick laughed. The menacing sound made the hairs on the back of Claire’s neck prickle. “You’re not his daughter unless that’s what they call whores who seduce Sugar Daddy’s!” His volume rose with each word.
    The distance between them lessened as her back pressed against the cool glass. “I never told you I was...”
    Without warning his hand forcefully contacted her left cheek causing her to stumble sideways. She caught herself against the glass before falling to the floor. He grabbed her hair and pulled her back to her feet. Tears filled her eyes as her scalp screamed in pain.
    “ Shut up!” He shouted. His foul breath making her stomach lurch.
    She thought about her baby, “Please, you can have whatever you want. Just don’t hurt me.”
    “ I said shut up!” He slapped her again, releasing her hair and allowing her to fall. Her head bounced off the sill and onto the wood floor. Claire pulled her knees into her chest, as she tried to shield herself and her baby. Patrick’s foot connected her ribs pushing the air from her lungs.
    As she struggled for air she heard his voice, “You’re coming with me. I’m going to get everything I deserve....” His fist now entwined her hair, pulling her body upward. She scrambled, trying to move -- to stop the pain. He dragged her body across the floor. The room grew steadily darker, while in the distance she heard Harry’s voice -- yelling. Pain intensified -- in her head --- her chest --- a loud noise -- everything faded away.
     
     

 
     
     
    I hope you aren’t too ugly. What a collection of scars you have.
Be grateful. Our scars have the ability to give us the reality
that our past is real. - Red Dragon
     
    Chapter 52
     
    Consciousness came slowly; she felt the throbbing in her head and the intense pain in her side. As the feelings intensified so did her nausea. Claire couldn’t remember where she was... it felt wrong. Wanting to see her surroundings, she tried to open her eyes. Why did she hurt so much? Why wouldn’t her eyes open? Panic intensified her nausea. Instinctively she knew getting sick would increase her pain; she tried to breathe and distance herself from the agony. Beyond the darkness she heard sounds. Her mind scrambled, beeps -- she heard