Jenny stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She hadn't cried or pleaded. She took that away from him, at least. She looked for any bruising. He hadn't been gentle, but she could see no outward signs of what happened. She wondered how Jeremy was. He had been through so much already.

Patrick tapped on the door.

"Jenny, get dressed. We need more firewood. The snow's finally stopped, so it shouldn't take you so long."

"Can I dry my hair?"

"You worried about getting pneumonia? You got a lot of other pressing things to worry about," he said . The sound of her clothes dropping to the floor outside the bathroom let her know his answer. "Hurry up."

Repulsive waste of space, Jenny thought as Patrick walked away. God didn't make you. He couldn't make anything so void of good. This was a test. God tested his believers. Her own mother had told her that. Her mother had said the cancer was a test. Jenny still didn't understand why God tested people. Or why she was being tested twice.

Jenny pulled her jeans on, a horrifying thought darted through her mind as she struggled with the button. What if she was pregnant? God would never let that happen though. The thought of Patrick Shay's seed growing inside of her made her heave.

She went to the stairs and paused long enough to look back. She could see his bare legs as he lay on her bed. She toyed with the idea of throwing herself down the stairs. That would show him how hideous she felt at carrying his child. But she couldn't do it. Patrick wouldn't care. Life had no meaning to him. Not even one he helped to create.



The pop and hiss of the fire was soothing. She didn't let her gaze go to either Fin or Jeremy. Even if they hadn't heard the sounds from upstairs, they would see it on her face.

"He wants me to get more wood."

Fin sat on the stone hearth, biting at his thumbnail nervously.

"Sure," he said. He didn't bother to look up at her. Shame filled him. But then he had never thought his brother would cross that line with her. Jenny was a nice girl. She deserved better.

"Are you okay?" he finally managed to say. He stood up and followed her into the kitchen.

She pulled her coat on and started to wrap the scarf around her neck.

"Does it really matter?" she said quietly, as she tugged the zipper up on her coat.



Jeremy could see Fin in the kitchen. His back was to Jeremy, and he was whispering to Jenny. He couldn't hear what was being said, but he could see the look on Jenny's face. She looked uncharacteristically sad.

Something else caught his attention. The knife lay on the coffee table. Jeremy scooted over to the edge of the couch stretching out his arm.

Keep him talking, Jeremy thought. His fingertips brushed the hilt. It twirled in a lazy circle.

His ankle teetered on the edge of the cushion. He tried again.

Jen's hand was on the backdoor handle, she was turning away from Fin. Jeremy bore down, pushed past the pain. At last, his fingers closed around it. He slumped back against the couch, the blade resting on his stomach. Quickly, he slid the blade into the space between the cushions. He would know when to use it. The moment would be right and he would use it. And he would not hesitate.



Fin came back into the living room. Jeremy was still sleeping, so he mounted the stairs.

He knocked once before pushing open the door to Jenny's room.

"What did you do to her?"

Patrick opened one eye, but didn't bother to sit up.

"If you have to ask, then you must still be too young."

"She's a nice girl, Patrick," he said, his voice taking on a whine he knew would infuriate Patrick. "You said we were just gonna hide out here. Now, you've gone and-."

"I got bored."

Fin started pacing. "Oh, God, Patrick, why?"

The bed creaked loudly as Patrick sat up. He scratched his chest, then roughly grabbed his dirty clothes.

"Don't you start freaking out. We came here because of you. Because you finally decided to stand up and be a man. If you hadn't done what you did, we wouldn't be here and sweet Jenny would still be holding out on the local boys."

"I should have just turned myself in. It was self defense, right?"

He glared at Fin. "It's too late for that. I'm not going back to jail."

"You didn't do anything."

A cold smile crept to Patrick's face.

"I repeat. I ain't going to jail. You know what they do to rapist in jail, Fin? They let the punishment fit the crime. No thank you."

Fin nodded.

Patrick finger combed his wet hair. "We're gonna finish what we started here. When the snow finally stops for good, we're out of here."

Fin hung his head and went to the door. "Don't hurt her no more, okay, Patrick?

"When she comes back inside, tell her to fix us all something to eat. Now, go check on the boy."

Fin climbed down the stairs and sat on the bottom step. It was true. They wouldn't be here if it weren't for him. All of this was Fin's fault. He looked up when Jeremy set out a muffled moan.

"You need more stuff?" he asked.

Jeremy struggled to sit up, looking around the room with apparent confusion.

"I'm thirsty," he said. He looked to the kitchen. "Jenny," he called.

"She's coming right back. She went for more wood."

Fin went into the kitchen. Jeremy wondered when he would notice the missing knife. If and when he did, Jeremy would have little time to act.