A/N: Trigger warning. References to rape. 

Something brushed against Zara's toe.

It was ignored. She was still in a deep sleep.

Another thing brushed against her, this time her thigh.

A migraine accompanied Zara back into the real world. There wasn't a section of her body that didn't ache. A steamroller drove over her body, turned around, and repeated the procedure, leaving only her head to deal with the pounding. Her tongue felt like sandpaper against the roof of her mouth, and the dryness of her throat could rival the climate of the Sahara desert.

She smacked her parched lips together, and almost lurched when the foul taste of alcohol took its place in her mouth. Zara rolled over and rested her cheek on her outstretched arm. Her bloodshot eyes slowly opened, but her lashes had to flutter in order to clear her blurry vision. She found herself on the floor, part of her top-half covered by an overhanging blanket, and a hand wrist-deep into a misshapen lampshade.

Where am I?

Slowly, and very carefully, she sat up. Tears stung her eyes as the pain in her head intensified, and she had to rest it against the bed; it felt too heavy for her neck. She swept her tangled and matted hair over a shoulder, and twisted her head to look at the chaos on the floor. Shards of glass decorated the area, and when Zara searched the source, she saw a bedside lamp, or at least what was left of it.

A wave of her arm, and the lampshade tumbled off. It landed meekly besides her.

Zara suddenly felt cold, so she looked down. Her eyes widened in terror when she saw that it was covered by nothing but her bra.

Panic soon swamped her when—not too far from where she sat—her eyes caught the sweater she had worn the day before laying in a heap, as if it had been thrown across the room.

Memories of the night before came flooding back, and something snapped in her head. Simon getting shoved against the wall.

Stealing the drink, downing it in the hopes of erasing what she had done.

Texting Max.

Max.

Everything that happened afterwards was a drunken blur. Max couldn't have done what she thought he had...or had he?

She still had her pants on, but that didn't mean anything, he could've slipped them back while she was sleeping.

There were so many possibilities, each worsening with increasingly dismal thoughts.

He couldn't have done this to me. Max would never do this to me. No, he wouldn't. I asked for his help because I could trust him. But is he capable of doing such a thing?

Sobs racked her body, and shrieks filled the silence.

Zara wrapped her arms around her knees, trying to draw the strength to live another day. It had happened again.

Another memory, one from several years back, began to haunt her again, freeing itself from the suppression in the depths of her mind.

She was surrounded by nothing but darkness, a darkness that wrapped its thick arms around her neck, asphyxiating her.

Zara had been thrown into the darkness, all of a sudden. One moment she had been sleeping peacefully in her bed, the next she was gagged, restrained, and carried out the room, out to meet her horrible fate.

Both her arms and ankles were tied together—with what she didn't know—forcing her into a position that made her muscles ache from the strain. How long had Zara been that way? She didn't know. A couple of seconds, minutes, hours, days...time to her was irrelevant.

She had been crying for so long, scared of what was to come, that there were no more tears left to shed.

Light suddenly bathed Zara's face, momentarily blinding her. An opening. A figure stepped into the light, and although she couldn't make out its face, she recognised him from the outline of his heavyset body.

In the beginning, he had been just another foster parent. But he soon became the man that would haunt her sleep for years to come.

"Sorry for the wait. I had to...settle a few things. Don't worry though, you've got me all to yourself now." Zara screamed, but it was muffled by the cloth in her mouth.

The man took a step towards her. "Ever since I saw you in that orphanage, I knew I just had to have you. You are so beautiful Zara, so fucking beautiful."

Zara began to wriggle violently, trying to free herself, but to no avail. The monster was getting closer.
"Chocolate-chip. My chocolate-chip."

A door slammed.

"I'm back! I got some lunch on the way..."

It's him.

She had been too young to do anything before. Now she was older, stronger, and no longer defenceless.

Zara staggered to her feet, using the bed to support her. The pounding was almost intolerable now, and it almost pushed her back down, but she fought against it, the fury in her blood overpowering the pain. She wobbled over to what remained of the lamp and bent over.

She rolled the wooden body in her hand, allowing herself to get used to the shape and texture.

She swung it, a broad arc in front of her. Zara would wait for him in the bedroom, and spill his blood right there, on the floor. Her breath hitched as she thought about it, and she felt herself beginning to cry again.

No, I have to be strong.

Zara had fought for him, saved his life, and the moment she entrusted him with her own it had all backfired.

She really didn't want to do this, but she had no choice.

She couldn't just let her assaulter walk away again.

The apartment she was in was unbelievably big, so she had to strain her ears to hear the rustling that probably came from the kitchen.

He said something else, which she hadn't understood due to the blood pumping in her ears, and then she heard him make his way towards her location.

For a moment, she considered hiding somewhere, and attacking him when his back was turned, like that one time so many weeks ago. But no, this time Zara would face him. He needed to look her in the eye as she bashed his skull in.

Max walked into the room, a smile on his face, but it disappeared the moment he took in Zara's menacing appearance

His eyes went to the weapon she was holding then to her face.

She wanted to run at him with it, but his eyes seemed to root her in place. Her legs felt like two heavy logs, and she found herself swaying in her stance.

Focus.

Something must have clicked in his head because he raised a hand, keeping himself at a safe distance from her, "Zara...I know what you're thinking, but let me explain—"

Before he could finish, Zara ran up to him, lifting the lamp in the air like a baseball bat.  Max managed to deflect the incoming blow with his forearm, turning his body away from her to shield his injured side.

"It's—" He groaned when Zara struck him again, but he somehow managed to one-handedly twist the weapon out of her hands and throw it far away, out of both of their reaches. 

Zara screamed like an Amazonian, and tried to attack him with her bare fists.

Her cries were strangled, her fists seemed to continuously miss her target, and the only thing that seemed to keep her going was pure desperation.

"Goddamnit Zara! Fucking stop it and listen to me!" He wrapped his hand around her wrist just before her fist made contact with his face, and he held it, suspended that way in mid-air.

The other one intersected his jaw, but the blow wasn't strong enough to make him falter.

Zara felt like a burnt-out candle wick. That outburst had lit the flame, the flame that consumed what remained of the candle of her strength.

A shrivelled up grape, a raisin.

She sunk to her knees, the pain she felt inside was indescribable, and it brought tears to her eyes once again. 

I'm weak, fucking weak.

Max released her wrist and crouched down in front of her.

He was close, too close. His warmth scorched her.

"I would never, ever...ever even consider what you thought I did."

She didn't bulge, too absorbed in self-deprecation to hear what he was saying.

"You texted me last night, and I came to pick you up, because I thought that you were in trouble. You were drinking...a lot, to be honest I don't even know how you were still standing after draining half a bottle of vodka."

Zara snorted dismissively, as her attention on him wavered.

Darkness began to creep along the edges of her vision as she felt herself being sucked back into the horrific memory. Max's body began to twist and change shape, morphing into the monster...

She blinked, and was brought back to the real world, his babbling was meaningless, but it was a familiar sound that brought calmness to her soul.

"Like damn," The smile could be heard in his voice, "I didn't think you were a lightweight, but that definitely disproved any chance of that."

She looked up at him.

He bit his lower lip.

"You seemed to be in a bad place, so I just brought you back to mine, no questions asked..."

"So how do you explain this?" She gestured mechanically to her exposed midriff, then to her disposed-of sweater.

"It gets pretty hot here at night, so as the altruistic, selfless man I am, I tried to take your sweater off, just for the sake of you being comfortable. I didn't know that you weren't wearing anything underneath."

He's lying.

"You're lying. I can see it in those shifty eyes of yours." She narrowed her own and brought two fingers up to his face. Chuckling, he grabbed her hand and laced his fingers with hers.

"I swear to God I'm not. And I only do that when I'm three hundred percent truthful...I'm a pig, but not a rapist."

There he went with that handsome smile of his again, the kind that had the sides of his green eyes crinkle and his pearly whites showing.

Zara searched his face, looking for the signs of deceit

There weren't any.

She felt like a wild animal, in contact for the first time with a human being.

His smile was infectious, too infectious, and soon she found herself unable to maintain the frown on her face.

Of course he would never do such a thing. Of course he wouldn't.

Max had said so himself, after all.

He had even sworn, so he must be telling the truth.

Zara let out a conflicted breath.

She looked down at their entwined hands, and raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

He also looked down, seemingly surprised with his own action. "You don't like it? In that case..." He dislodged his hand and tried to stand up, but Zara snatched it and pulled him back down.

"No! Don't go! I like it—I mean I..."

"It's settled then. You like having me hold your hand." He poked her nose and got up, lifting Zara up to her feet as well.

As they walked down the corridor, her hand still in his, she couldn't help but grin manically. She had admitted to liking him to Saffron, but would she ever be able to say it to Max's face? That was the million dollar question. What if he didn't feel the same way? She dreaded the thought.

"The bathroom is right around the corner, there are clean towels laid out on the rack for you, but if you need anything just holler." Max pushed open a door, revealing a bathroom the size of her living room, bedroom, and kitchen combined.

It was so big, she couldn't see the entirety of its interior from where she stood, only part of the bathtub. Zara's mouth fell open.

"The bathtub has a jacuzzi option, so feel free to use it if you want." He leaned against the wall, a smug look on his face, "And close your mouth before something crawls in."

Was it that obvious?

She blushed, her jaw clenching with embarrassment. "I can't afford to do this right now."

Max looked at her as if she had sprouted a second head. "Don't...really know what to say...but I'm sure as hell not having you come eat lunch the way you look right now. You're musty."

"It's not that!" She shrieked, her cheeks warming up to the temperature of the sun. Another comment of his and she would glow, "I...need to do something important."

See her grandfather.

He had been at the back of her mind, but reality hadn't set in until she had been offered the chance to relax. She couldn't waste any more time than she had already, it wasn't fair to him.

Max pursed his lips and looked away for a second, lost in thought. "They won't let you into the hospital looking like that. You're a biological hazard."

"How did you—"

"You told me. Now freshen up, I'm going to see whether the curry is still edible." He winked at her then turned on his heel, strutting away and into the kitchen.

She stared at the back of his head, his confidence never ceasing to amaze her. He did have point.

-:-

It's nice here.

Only Zara's head remained above water, the rest of her body was submerged. The jacuzzi option had to be turned on intermittently; the soap had foamed into freakish proportions, so any movement resulted in the biblical Flood, which washed away all known microorganisms living on the tiled floor. 

She piled up some soap on her head, becoming one with it.

The pounding in her head had subsided to mild palpitations. The jagged edges of her thoughts smoothened out, giving her the mental clarity she had yearned for.

Even the voices seemed to be relaxed, oddly enough.

Now that you're done fooling around, I think it's time we have a serious talk.

Zara rolled her eyes, already formulating a snide remark, when she remembered that she wasn't alone in the apartment. If Max happened to walk by, and heard her talking to herself, he probably wouldn't hesitate to pick up a phone and contact the nearest mental asylum.

"Not now," She whispered, her eyes darting to door. She kept her sloshing to a minimum in order to hear even the faintest of sounds. Zara felt like she was already treading on thin ice with Max, and didn't want their relationship to shatter.

Yes now. When else? Something big is going to happen. I can feel it.

Zara knew better than to argue.

Was this sense of foreboding her own? She still had a lot to learn about herself and her sub-conscious. 

I agree.

Me too.

"Alright, if we're going to do this you're going to have to talk one at a time."

Experience had taught her that frustration led nowhere, and would worsen any situation. She was going to have to remain calm, and speak to them like they were real people, adults, and not hyperactive children.

Zara was a conductor, and the voices her choir. Each voice had a specific role, it's part harmonious with another's. But when voice's parts clash, their discordance is unpleasant to the ear.

I will be the one to speak.

A few voices began to grumble, but they soon came to an agreement. Good.

Have you been thinking about what Simon has told you?

Zara shook her head, tracing a finger along the edge of the tub. "Honestly, I just think that everything he said was bullshit. If he wanted to lie to me he could've thought up of something better than...that."

But at the same time...you believe him.

She swallowed and wrinkled her nose. The voice of reason, trying to reason with her irrational self.

Zara tried to go back, to that moment where her grandfather was speaking to her, pleading with her to forgive him.

"I'm just glad to be back at home and with you."

"Crap..." Her eyes burned again.

Max needs to know about this.

"Hell no!" She flung her arm in the air in astonishment, spraying soapy water all over the bathroom floor. "Hey, everything okay in there?" Max's voice reverberated through the wooden door.

Busted.

It's now or never.

Talk to him.

Yeah! Do it.

They began to chant, and Zara could feel herself sweating, even if she was mostly underwater.

"No! Yes! Can you come in?"

Dead Silence.

He asked out of courtesy, ensuring that the bloodcurdling shriek he heard wouldn't be followed by others.

"Oh well..."

The door swung open, and in barged Max. "I'm—"

Flustered, she sunk deeper into the tub until only the top of her head was exposed.

At the count of three, she resurfaced to Max muttering, "—made a lake here," along with his peeved facial expression. He kept his distance from her, and the slipping hazard, a hand on his hip.

Zara fidgeted with her hair.

He's here, now what?

"So...you needed me or..." Max shuffled in place, his eyes not directly on her but on a point above her head.

Think. Think. Think.

"Uhm...I was wondering if you could..." Her hand touched what felt like a sponge, and she lifted it triumphantly in the air, "Scrub my back?" She grinned sheepishly.

Max give her a strange look, then shrugged. He slowly made his way towards Zara, avoiding the "lake" she had made besides the bathtub. She handed him the sponge—lopsided smile still on her face—which he squeezed, then she felt him kneel behind her.

"Pull your hair up," He ordered, his voice sending a shiver up her spine. Zara swallowed nervously then obliged; she piled the locks onto her head using the soap to keep them in place. They would be a pain to detangle later.

The sponge against her back made her jolt, but it soon began to make circular motions between her shoulder-blades. Every once in a while he would dip the sponge back into the water, dangerously close to Zara's midriff, then returned to circling. It felt nice, the roughness against her back, almost like Max was scrubbing away her impurities.

The silence between them wasn't strained, they were simply enjoying one another's company. Although Zara did have that burning need to talk to him.

"Actually...this is not why I called you." She bit her lip, and the sponge fractionally faltered against her back.

"I know. You just wanted me to be with you."

Zara whipped around, nearly hitting the side of her head against the wall, to look at Max with consternation. She had to drape an arm across her breasts, which were completely visible now that she was kneeling. His eyes went to them momentarily, but they snapped back to the scowl on her face. He grinned, resting his arm on the edge of the tub, sponge still in hand.

"It's not—It's not because of that! I actually...w-wanted to talk to you. About something important." She found herself stammering, his stare was making her that uncomfortable.

Zara could've sworn that his eyes had grown a shade darker.

"And you couldn't wait until after you finished your bath? It must be something very important then, darling." Max tilted his head to one side, a sneer on his face. He resembled a house cat, just needed the tail swishing gleefully behind him.

He called me darling?! 

Fireworks went off in her head.

"Y-yes, it is." Zara closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She had to control herself, not get thrown off by his salaciousness. "Very important. Once I tell you this, I don't know what's going to happen."

 He nodded. "If it's that bad, I suggest that you finish up, and come meet me in the kitchen."

Thank God.

She too had doubted whether the location they were in was appropriate for what she was going to confess. A part of her wanted to be selfish, and keep what her grandfather had told her to herself. But Max deserved to know, even though Zara couldn't guess how he would react to it.

If what her grandfather had said was true, then he was inherently the root of everybody's problems, the source. Max might interpret it as proof of Zara's involvement because after all, she was Simon's granddaughter. It would infuriate him, beyond reason. If he was prone to violence as she was, then things wouldn't end well for either herself or her grandfather. She shouldn't have brought it up at all.

Her face must've given away her thoughts, because Max reached over and caressed her cheek, "Don't be afraid to trust me Zara. Whatever it is, I'll listen, and unless you tell me that you've being doing something with other guys, it won't change what we have between us." He smiled encouragingly.

Zara's jaw clenched, unconvinced. His jealousy was adorable, but she couldn't waste thoughts on it at the moment

"Besides, I have to talk to you about something too, which may or may not freak you out." He moved so that he was only inches away from Zara.

She didn't turn her head to face him, she was too discombobulated to look him in the eye

He took her chin between two fingers and turned her head towards him. "It's a tough time, but we'll get through it together. I promise." He lifted his pinky in the air.

Zara smiled, charmed by his childishness. She took his big pinky with her small one and swayed it in an arc.

"That's my girl." He kissed her forehead and stood up. After a wink,  he walked out, closing the door behind him.

Zara remained stock-still, the kiss lingering on her forehead.

Shaken, she submerged herself one more time, enjoying the final moments before the storm. 

-:-