It was another whole day before Belle felt strong enough to get out of bed and go downstairs. Everything in her hurt, and she just wanted to stay up there and waste away and pretend like the last few years had been some horrible hallucination or something.

Unfortunately, they had been all too real and she had the hospital bills to prove it. Things had been okay for a few days when she went home, but of course nothing good ever lasted for her. By day five he'd punched a mirror so hard it shattered and stormed out. She'd cleaned it up and made dinner and then he came home and things had been alright for a few more days.

Then it had gotten really, really bad.

She had known it was going to be a bad day the second he stepped foot in the house. She'd made a special dinner and was waiting when he came home. He was already in a bad mood, somebody at work having made a complaint that got him a write up from his boss.

Early on in their relationship she'd have tried to cheer him up, but by this point she usually just tried to stay out of the line of fire and hope it was directed anywhere else. It was never directed anywhere else. All it had taken was the littlest thing to set him off when he was like that, and she had picked up the wrong brand of whiskey when she'd been out earlier.

He'd pinned her to the floor and called her names, telling her that he knew she had been sleeping around and probably got her other boyfriend's favorite instead. Her denials meant nothing, and they both knew it. He was sure she'd been staying with this other man when she had been in the shelter, and she knew then that one of his friends had probably put this idea in his head and there was nothing she could do but wait it out and beg.

He pried her legs open and she had a very real fear in that moment that he would rape her and there really wasn't anything she could do to stop him if he tried. He was so much bigger than her.

"See what you're doing to me?" he screamed, holding her so hard it was painful but she didn't dare move. "You're driving me crazy!"

"I'm sorry," she sobbed through the pain in her thighs from his knees forcing her legs down. "I promise I'm not leaving again. I won't leave."

He had slammed her head into the floor until she saw stars and was so sure she was about to die that she fell limp and just accepted it. After that he got off of her and stormed into their bedroom, collecting all her shoes and throwing them into a pile in the backyard. He grabbed her arm and dragged her out there to watch the bonfire.

"Now you can't leave the house without me," he'd explained.

He saved one pair of sneakers and locked them in his car so she couldn't get to them if he wasn't home. After that he calmed down and they had her carefully planned dinner which tasted exactly like sawdust to her, though he seemed to enjoy it.

"Hey," he said when she went to clear the table, pulling her into his lap affectionately. "I'm sorry, babe. You just know how I get."

"It's okay," she said on reflex, because what else could she say? She was his prisoner now. She had tasted freedom and surrendered it for this.

She'd done the dishes quietly, every neuron in her brain screaming at her to get out. The door was so close, and all she had to do was swing it open and run…Where? He was bigger than her, stronger, and faster. He had a car and she didn't even have shoes. She had no money, no friends, and her father was in the next state and they hadn't talked since she dropped out of school. She was all alone, and Gaston was the only one who cared if she lived or died. That was a chilling thought.

That night he had wanted sex, and she had let him. It was easier to forget how badly her head still hurt from the beating earlier if it was all part of foreplay leading to this. That night he held her and whispered about how much he loved her and wanted to start a family with her. He wanted her to be there forever, for the rest of his life. He'd kill himself if she left again.

The next day he brought home a handgun and said it was for self-defense. He promised he'd show her how to shoot sometime. Then he let her borrow her shoes so she could go and buy the right whiskey.

He was going to kill her. The words just kept running through her head over and over again. He was going to kill her but she couldn't get away. He'd notice if she left with a bag, and he was timing her errands to make sure she didn't take too long.

It took her another full week before an opportunity to escape presented itself. One of the neighbors left a pair of muddy flip-flops in the trash. She snuck them out and hid them under the porch, and within two days she was gone. She had access to a checking account and state ID to pay for a few things like a doctor appointment at a clinic on the first day, but bus fare all but eliminated her cash on hand.

It had been enough to get her to the shelter, though. She had little else besides some of her clothes and a new pair of shoes. She didn't want him to see her shopping on the account, some part of her still trying to mollify him even though she knew there was no going back after this.

There was a lady who could help you find a job, but she only came once a week after she got off work at her real job. Belle had never been to see her before and had to wait for another woman to leave before she got to go in. It was a little disheartening to be told a local bar was looking for waitresses, but with no experience she was lucky there was even that available.

She was going to need clothes to interview in and bus fare to an interview and all of that cost so much money she wasn't even sure what she could do. By now he would have cancelled her checks once he saw what she was doing. It all felt so hopeless to need less than a hundred dollars and to not even have that much. She didn't even have the income to get a credit card or a loan.

She was sitting on a bench in the courtyard and debating the relative merits of prostitution versus panhandling when she saw Bobby approaching her. She was really, really not in the mood for company but she was even less in the mood to tell him she wasn't in the mood for company so she didn't stop him when he sat down next to her.

"No cigarettes today?" he asked with a little smile she couldn't quite return.

"I ran out," she admitted. "Yesterday was the last one."

"How are you feeling?" he asked her, looking worried at her flat affect and complete lack of hygiene.

Like shit.

"Fine. Thanks."

"That's good," he said, obviously uncomfortable already. "I didn't see you yesterday."

"Yesterday I was not fine,"she said simply, hoping that would be enough. She didn't really want to explain what had happened since her last stay in the shelter.

"I'm sorry," he said, looking at her a little sadly and like he really meant it. "I wanted to ask you something, though."

Please no, I can't do anything right now. I can't talk about it.

"Oh?"

"Yeah," he said. "I found a job at a construction company in the office."

"Congratulations," she said, trying not to feel too bitter about the whole thing. He was doing well, she was going to go live in a tent.

"The only problem is that I have to be there until five," he paused as though that made any sense at all to have as a problem. "Bae gets off the bus at four thirty."

"Oh?" she said. "Isn't there an after school program?"

She was sure there must be one, or else how did all the other women here mind their kids?

"There is, but if have to go to the school to get him and with my leg and the bus it would be really hard to manage," he replied. "I was wondering if you'd mind babysitting him in the afternoons. If pay you, of course. I don't have a lot, but it'd be something."

"Sure," she said quickly, trying bit too sound too desperate. "I can watch him."

"Good," he said, sounding relieved.

Even if it was five dollars a day that was twenty-five a week, and if she was careful and got lucky at a thrift shop that might get her a dress she could wear to get a job and bus fare to the interview. God, this was humiliating. She was a babysitter. She hadn't babysat since she was seventeen, and here she was a grown woman with no other job skills to speak of.

"I start on Monday," Bobby said. "Would that be a problem for you?"

"No," she said, doing some quick math. "I don't have anyplace else to be."

That seemed to satisfy him, and he thanked her before promising to introduce her to his son later. He mercifully left not long after, and she was left to her thoughts.

It was tempting to go back home and pretend like none of this had ever happened, but she had burned that bridge. He would know what she had done, and there was no going back. Her mind kept going back to that gun, too. She had known he was going to kill her someday, and definitely feared for her life before, but it had always been a far away risk. Something that was part of a nebulous future where she was lucky to be alive in the present. Seeing Gaston holding a pistol, though, brought that dark future to her front door. She would die by his hands. She was lucky she wasn't already dead.

The fact that he could beat her head against the floor and later that same day tell her he wanted her to have his child just made it worse somehow. They had discussed it before, but never so close to him hitting her and never so savagely. A baby would have just been one more piece of leverage he had over her, and someday if she was lucky she would have been Bobby on the swing set worrying over sharing custody with his abuser. She couldn't do that, couldn't inflict Gaston on a child.

The rest of the week slogged by slowly. She felt stronger by day three, but the fog over her head wasn't quite lifting. Still, she met Bae and practiced watching him on the playground a little bit. It felt so strange watching a child when she had almost been a mother. It would have been a trap, and she knew it, but some part of her still wanted to be trapped. Her cage hadn't been safe, but it had been comfortable. The devil she knew compared to the uncertainty of the real world.

Belle adjusted to babysitting well enough, and she came send close to crying when Bobby got paid and handed her $150. It was the most cash she'd held in her hands since she went to college, and that was pretty pitiful in and of itself.

It wasn't a lot for an adult without any other source of income, but it was enough to buy some things second hand and even if they didn't fit perfectly it was a strange feeling of being pretty just to try something on and see how it fit her. She splurged a little bit and got two dresses, one for job interviews and one just to have, as well as a few pairs of shoes to replace the ones Gaston had destroyed. It was nice to have things he hadn't paid for and that hasn't been chosen with an eye towards pleasing him. These were secondhand, but they were hers.

There weren't any bruises to cover up, either, and the feeling of the sun on her legs when she applied for the job at the bar cheered her up immensely. She could waitress at night and still watch Bae in the afternoon, and maybe save a little money and have some choices soon in where she went.

It was a good day as she stood at the bus stop after her interview. The manager had been optimistic, telling her experience wasn't really necessary just an attention to detail and a good memory and she had both of those. She would hear back by the end of the week.

She was back to the shelter in plenty of time to meet Bae when he got off the bus. Usually she'd help him with homework or watch him play with the other children, but today he had to meet with the therapist. She had gone back and forth on whether or not to schedule an appointment for herself with the doctor, but she felt so good lately it was hard to think about.

"Hi Belle!" Bae said cheerfully as he disembarked the bus.

"How was school?" she asked him, taking his backpack off his tiny shoulders and slinging it over one of hers. "Did you learn anything fun?"

"We talked about spiders and presidents," he replied.

"Not in the same class I hope," she said. "You've got to go see Dr. Hopper today, by the way."

Bae wrinkled his nose but nodded and held her hand as they crossed the street to the shelter.

"What'd you do today?" he asked.

"I went shopping," she replied. "And I may have gotten a new job."

"So you won't be babysitting me?"

"It'd be at night," she said. "So I can do both."

"Okay, good," he said. "Papa doesn't think we could get by without you."

She almost tripped when he said that, and she really didn't think that was meant for her ears.

"Yeah?" she probed, wondering if there was more to that.

"Yeah," he said. "Where will you be working?"

"I'm going to be a waitress," she said, deciding he didn't need all the details of what a cocktail waitress did. "I'll bring people their drinks."

"At a bar?" Bae asked and she looked at him in shock and nodded slowly. Why did he know that? "My momma likes bars."

She felt like she should have expected that, but she hadn't heard much about his mother except that she was sometimes violent. Poor kid, he didn't need all of that.

"Yeah?" she said. "Well, I don't like them too much. But grownups need to work."

He nodded, seemingly accepting that as a good enough reason for her to be there, and she handed him off to the doctor easily and settling into a sofa to wait for him. She was so close to something good, she could taste it.

Belle had the waitressing job. It wasn't much, but it felt like a victory. It was something of her own, and nobody could take it from her. She used some of her babysitting money to buy the black shirt she would need for her uniform and arrived to be trained by a leggy brunette named Ruby. She was to shadow the other woman for a few nights before she'd be left alone, and having been out of the workforce for so long Belle was grateful for that safety net.

Waitressing was easy enough to start. It wasn't a particularly busy night, but keeping track of all the different tables was a little confusing. As the night went on, it thinned out a bit but the remaining patrons were getting drunker and she was getting more tired. It would have probably been okay, except one of the patrons was getting handsy as he drank.

She knew how to dodge unwanted attention, but as the night went on it was getting more and more difficult. She couldn't even think about it, she just had to keep ducking his hands and bringing drinks.

Belle had ducked out to the restroom and was coming back through the narrow hallway when the drunk guy finally caught her.

"Hey," he slurred, leaning on the wall and blocking her progression to the safety of the bar. "What are you doing after this?"

"I have to get back to work," she said as firmly as she could manage.

"It'll be okay," he replied. "I won't tell."

He was trying to maneuver her back against the wall, and she was trying to maneuver her way past him, and it wasn't working. She felt panic beginning to rise as he pressed in on her, and suddenly her vision was going blurry at the edges. There was no way out, she was trapped. What could she do?

"Keith, what the hell?" Ruby's voice came from behind the stranger as the other waitress ducked under his arms and pulled Belle into her side.

"Don't be jealous, Rubes," the man said. "You know you're my best girl."

"You've had enough tonight," Ruby replied, smacking his hand away when he reached for her. "Go sit outside and sober up or I'm going to call you a cab."

He protested, but let Ruby bully him out the door. Belle's knees were shaking and she was leaning against the wall by the time the other woman returned to her.

"Don't let him bother you," she said. "He's a creep, but he's mostly harmless. You just have to tell him to knock it off."

Belle nodded and tried to catch her breath as her adrenaline started to settle down.

"Are you okay?" Ruby asked her.

"Yeah," Belle replied. "I need to get back to work."

"Okay," Ruby said. "The people at the back table need a pitcher of beer and some glasses."

"Right," Belle said, psyching herself up as she headed back to the bar and poured a pitcher with shaking hands.

He'd been so close with the sour smell of beer and liquor wrapping around her and she could taste bile and the heavy scent of alcohol in the back of her throat. She got the pitcher on the table, but she must have tipped it, and the entire thing went crashing to the floor along with the glasses she'd had in her arms.

"Oh my God," she exclaimed, dropping quickly to the floor to collect the broken glass. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

She was frantically trying to clean the mess up when Ruby came over with a towel and joined her. She couldn't stop apologizing, even as the other waitress kept insisting it wasn't that big a deal.

"Belle," Ruby finally said, grabbing her hand. "Go sit down for a few minutes. I'll take care of it."

Belle was shaking even harder as she went into the office and dropped onto the sofa back there. She'd messed up so badly, what had she been thinking spilling an entire pitcher? And she'd broken glasses – was it two or three? She couldn't afford to replace them. She was going to get fired on her first day. What was she going to do? She wasn't qualified for anything else, and she couldn't just keep babysitting for the rest of her life.

Ruby came in after a few minutes and Belle was still feeling that sick-to-her-stomach adrenaline level. She wanted to curl up on a ball and die.

"You feeling better?" Ruby asked.

"I can pay for the glasses," Belle said softly. "It was an accident."

"That?" Ruby said dismissively. "That was barely a mishap. I've seen girls take out entire boxes of glasses. It happens."

Oh.

"Okay," Belle nodded, feeling the stress starting to lift just a little bit. "I'm sorry. I've just...I don't know. I'm new to this."

"Don't worry about it," Ruby replied. "The night's almost over, anyway. Why don't you go and wash dishes until we close?"

"I can do that," Belle said. "I'll do better tomorrow."

She had to.