My legs aches and my lungs screamed. "Keep running, keep running, don't stop," I thought to myself, "Don't stop, Abigail."

I didn't stop until I reached the airport. I reached the counter out of breath, and panicky.

"Ma'am? Ma'am are you alright?" The guy at the counter asked worriedly.

"Yes. I need the first flight to Seattle, Washington, please," I rushed out.

"Okay let me see what I can do."

"Please hurry, it's an emergency." I begged him. Seven minutes and twenty-seven seconds later I had my ticket for the plane. I looked down at my shirt, the blood had seeped through. I tucked my jacket tightly around me and went to a gift shop. Picking up a t-shirt, a wrap and some bandages I paid and went to the nearest restroom. I peeled off my shirt and looked at the wound. It wasn't as bad as I thought, I cleaned it up, wrapped it and covered it was a bandage. I walked out to go and find my gate so I could board. I rounded the corner and saw it, I rushed and gave them my ticket and hurried to my seat as the flight was preparing to leave. I let out the breath I didn't know I had been holding and finally relaxed a little. I rested my head against the seat and closed my eyes, this was gonna be a long flight.

I jolted awake as the plane hit the ground, landing. Thank God.

We all began standing and shuffling off. I looked around, standing on my tip-toes, waiting to see my best-friend.

"Abs!" I ran and jumped into Paul's arms as he wrapped his arms around me. He set me down looking at me. "What's going on?" He questioned.

"Get me out of here and I'll tell you. Please," I begged him. He nodded tucked me into his side and walked me out to his truck. We got in and settled for the 2 1/2 hour drive to La Push, Washington.

I felt a few tears slip out as he reached over and grabbed my hand.

"What happened, Abigail?" He said softly.

"It got bad, Paul."

"What got bad? What are you talking about?" I started telling him everything that happened.

My fiancée, Derrek, and I had been engaged for 3 months when he started drinking. At first it wasn't anything for me to worry about, just a beer here and there. Then I came home one night from a friends house and he was completely wasted and started yelling at me, asking where I'd been, accusing me of cheating on him. This went on for a good two hours, us fighting. I tried to reason with him and get him to go to bed but he would't have it. He eventually passed out that night and I went and slept in the spare bedroom. That morning I woke up and tip toed in the kitchen, made coffee and sat at the counter reading a book. He came in the kitchen and I could sense something was about to happen. He continued asking where I was and when I told him, e refused to believe me. Then I started yelling, and that was the first time he hit me. He left me with a black eye. It was a week before I was able to cover it enough to go outside. After that, it kept happening. It got worse and worse. I never tried to run for fear of what he would do if he caught me, until last night. Last night was the end of it, he came at me with a knife after I accidentally dropped a glass plate and it shattered. He called me a "stupid bitch" and began hitting me. He learned after the first couple of times to only hit where people couldn't see. My back and legs and ribs were covered in black and blue bruises. I eyed the knife on the counter as i got another hit and double over. He saw it and reached for it as I did, he slashed me across the stomach as I kicked him in the groin, causing him to fall. I picked up my vase and smashed it over his head and he passed out. I rushed as fast as I could to the bathroom and got my secret stash of money and found a bandage and put it over the gash. It was the best I could have done at that point. I grabbed my money and ran out the door, only stopping once at a pay phone to call Paul and tell him to pick me up from the airport.

I looked over at Paul as I finished the story. He was shaking, like actually vibrating.

"What the hell, Paul?" He calmed down a little bit. I knew he had anger issues but I've never seen him shake like that.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't there. God, Abigail, you should've called me sooner. I could've stopped him. I'm so sorry," I didn't say anything else. Neither of us did, we just rode back in silence. I looked down and he was still holding my hand.

XXX

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