Author's Note: So, this was supposed to be the last chapter, but it just got too long. Rather than making it all one big chapter, I chose to separate it into two. Be warned, there are a couple shockers in here. And ultimately, my goal is to get part 2 out within the next week. (On April 10, it will have been one year since I started Outside Heaven!)


Outside Heaven

Epilogue

Part 1

Ruthie's bony, olive arms folded together; her body uncontrollably shivered. The dusty gray walls that surrounded her prison cell showed no sign of hope. She didn't even know the day, month, or year.

Her wrists tingled, and a stinging burn moved through her nervous system, even though she had to roll up the sleeves of her orange suit to see the cuts. Some of the wounds were self-inflicted; others were caused by the beatings. She hated herself, and she hated her life. As time continued to pass, she wished more and more each day that she would just die. She had no reason to live anymore.

When the security guard was awake, the guys would leave her alone. But the minute the guard on duty would turn his back, she was the subject to harsh and brutal treatment. She couldn't describe the acts that had been done to her. She hadn't done anything to deserve what they had done to her. Whenever possible, she minded her own business, and sat by her lonesome in the corner of the cell. Her nails had grown over the course of her imprisonment, and she would often dig her nails into her own skin to inflict self pain. In a way, the pain helped ease her tension.

There wasn't a day that passed in which she didn't think about her children. Martin never came to see her, and she hadn't seen her children since she had been hauled away by the police. Sometime ago, Peter had visited her. Their conversation had been brief, and she could tell that it had hurt Peter to come and see her.

He had ordered a DNA test, and had been shocked by the results of the paternity test. A rare situation had occurred on that December day, where Martin and Peter had each fathered one of her children. Peter told her that he had researched it; there were only seven other known cases in the world.

Peter fought for custody of that daughter, which one he wouldn't tell her. She found out later, from Sarah and Kevin—the only ones who visited her, with the exception of Simon, who visited when he was in town—that it had been Cari, and that Peter had been awarded custody. Ruthie hadn't heard a word from Peter since.

Sarah and Kevin had also told Ruthie that Candi made a full recovery. Ruthie was thankful, though she couldn't express her happiness. Had Candi not survived, Ruthie knew that she would be put on trial for murder. Though, Ruthie knew that it was selfish and wrong to think like that.

Candi wasn't the only one to survive her injuries. Jenny had also recovered, to some extent. However, she wasn't as fortunate as Candi. Jenny's injuries were more terminal; she had lost her legs from the knee-cap down. She had spent seven months in a rehabilitation center for children, learning how to walk again. The last time Ruthie had heard from Sarah and Kevin, which could have been a decade ago for all she knew, Jenny was ten, and thriving well with her artificial legs.

The men in Ruthie's prison cell would shoot dirty looks at her each day. She was the only woman within the whole prison. Apparently, women in Glen Oak did not commit crimes. Ruthie often wondered why she hadn't been sent out of the city, to a prison with other women. But she didn't dare ask.

Her lower abdomen throbbed. She lightly pressed against the tender area. Even though she knew it couldn't be seen, she knew a bruise covered her lower stomach. And she knew exactly where it had come from. But nobody would believe her, and if they did, they wouldn't care.

Ruthie's stomach wasn't the only bruised part of her body. Aside from her soul being bruised, her shoulders ached to move. Part of the pain came from her muscles; the remainder of the pain came from the fist-shaped image which lied on the middle of her shoulder blades.

Her back was turned away from the bars; she faced the wall, and her dry, burning eyes traced the cracks embedded in the dusty wall. She inhaled through her nose; whiffs of dust had clogged her noses quite some time ago.

"Ruthie." She flinched when she heard her name called. Immediately, she swerved around to see the security guard looking directly at her. "Someone's here to see you."

Her heart leaped, figuring it was Kevin and Sarah. Perhaps that had come to fill her in on the latest Camden drama. There was always something going in, and they enlightened her. For example, she had been enlightened that Lucy would scowl at the mention of Ruthie's name. The last time Kevin had visited, it had been two years since Lucy and Kevin welcomed their fifth child, a second son.

Ruthie hadn't even met the child, but the picture Kevin had shown her remained instilled inside her head. The little boy had a head full of blond, like his brother and two of his sisters. When she had first seen Jonah, that was his name, Ruthie had thought she was looking at Isaiah, his older brother. Considering, in the picture, Jonah was the same age Isaiah had been when Ruthie had last seen him.

Kevin had shown Ruthie pictures of the other kids, which he proudly carried in his wallet. He had said that if Lucy knew that he was showing the pictures to Ruthie, Lucy would have a cow. He'd also shown her a picture of all the kids that was taken the previous Christmas; it included Ruthie's own children.

They were growing so fast, and it pained Ruthie not being there with them. She remembered when Savannah was born. Although Savannah wasn't her first niece or nephew, she was the first one Ruthie actually had the opportunity to be around, since the Camdens only saw Charlie on rare occasions. Ruthie remembered the excitement; it was the first time she could remember ever wanting to have a baby of her own.

She had begun to look forward to nurturing her own child, and watching her own child grow. As she watched Savannah begin to crawl, walk, and talk, Ruthie remembered thinking that someday she would be teaching her own children how to do all those things. That was when she had first started fantasizing about marrying Martin, and having his babies.

Savannah's birth was the beginning of the end. Everything changed that day. Ruthie began to see life in a different perspective. She had pictured being married before, with Peter. But that was only puppy love. Martin was the real deal.

At least she had thought he had been, until he broke her heart, twice.

And now she had missed years in her children's lives. Cari was growing up separate from her twin sister and younger brother. That wouldn't have happened if it hadn't been for Ruthie's stupidity. Then again, if it hadn't been for her own stupidity, Cari and Candi may not have been born. If she hadn't slept with both Peter and Martin, then she wouldn't have had twins.

If only she had respected her parents' wishes. She couldn't begin to imagine where she would be now if she had not engaged in pre-marital sex. Likewise, she would have gone off to college. No. A sudden thought hit her. She was supposed to go with T-Bone on that college visit, but she had stayed behind. I would be dead. The veins in Ruthie's head throbbed against her skull.

Her heart anxiously pounded as the security guard guided her toward the meeting room, where she had visited before. As he was guiding her, she was visualizing the cream walls and the mirror—or one-way window—in the room. Despite knowing it was a window, which a security guard would watch every conversation that took place inside the room, Ruthie was glad to have a mirror. It gave her the chance to look at herself, and fix her hair.

Ruthie visualized Sarah and Kevin sitting at the table, patiently waiting for her to come. Her heart skipped a beat with excitement. She loved when they visited; she loved anything that got her out of her cell and away from 'the guys.'

The guard pushed open the door, and Ruthie's jaw dropped with the unexpected. Neither Kevin nor Sarah sat at the rectangle table. Instead, Ruthie saw a face she hadn't seen since her sentencing: Cheryl.

"Cheryl," Ruthie whispered, quickly glancing toward the mirror. Her hair was a mess, like it was every time she visited the room. A rat's nest had formed in her brown, greasy hair.

The security guard threw her down and took the cuffs off her. With the cuffs still in his hand, he disappeared through the door, slamming it behind him. She could still feel his eyes watching them.

"Ruthie, it's a long time no see," Cheryl carefully smiled. Her eyes immediately moved toward the bruise on Ruthie's neck, which Ruthie had seemingly forgotten about. "Ruthie, what has happened? Your security guard has reported that you've been behaving well."

"It's nothing. I just ran into the wall. After being locked up for so long, it's hard to walk straight," Ruthie lied, too embarrassed of her inability to fight off her cell mates. She was violent enough to be stuck with them, so she should be able to fight them off.

Cheryl raised her thin, blonde eyebrow. "I see." She didn't seem to be convinced.

"Why are you here?" Ruthie inquired, messing with her hair, attempting it to neaten it somewhat. She glanced at the mirror through her peripheral vision. Every time her eyes met the glass, she could feel the security guard's eyes stare into her eyes.

"Well, like I said, your security guards have reported that you've been on good behavior," Cheryl began, "and I'm not sure if you're aware of the year—"

"—please enlighten me," Ruthie cut in. "I've completely lost track of time. Wasn't I originally supposed to be in for five years? What is it, 2025? I know it's been longer than five years!"

Cheryl shook her head; her silk-thin mouth-line curved down. "Ruthie, the year is May 2017. You're not supposed to be able to get bail until December."

Her heart sunk. If she wasn't supposed to post bail until December, what was Cheryl doing? Had she come to rub it in Ruthie's face? At least Ruthie knew the date, but that knowledge didn't help her. It just made time feel like it was going slower, and slower.

Suddenly, it hit her. The year 2017 was an important year, and it didn't have to do with her parole. It was a date that had been set years before, eighteen years before, to be exact. The year 2017 was the year Sam and David were supposed to graduate. It's May, Ruthie thought, knowing that meant her youngest twin brothers would soon be graduating. And she wouldn't be there to see the youngest and last of the Camdens walk across the stage.

Likewise, Sam and David hated her. Sarah hadn't mentioned them, and Ruthie knew that had the twins wanted to come and see her, they could have. If it were May, it meant the twins had been eighteen since February. That meant they had had free will since May. And even then, Ruthie knew that Sarah would have brought them along before.

Though, Ruthie wasn't entirely sure if Matt or Lucy knew that Kevin and Sarah were visiting Ruthie. Both had mentioned that neither approved of the idea. Ruthie could believe the idea coming from Lucy, but not Matt. Matt had always been there for her; through pregnancy, through her attitude, through everything. And she had been there for him; she had kept his secret for four years! "I'll always be there for you, Ruthie," he had told her, but where was he when she absolutely needed him? Ruthie didn't understand. He was pulling a Lucy; that was what he was doing.

And Lucy was a minister. She was supposed to be accepting of all people, even criminals. Ruthie knew that she had visited criminals in prison before. Yet, she wouldn't visit her own sister. She'd forgive murderers and rapists, but she wouldn't forgive her own sister.

Kevin and Sarah weren't even her biological siblings. Ruthie didn't understand. Of all people, Ruthie had hoped her siblings would understand. Not understand, but forgive her. Their parents had raised them to forgive others. Apparently, with the death of her parents, the family's morals had died away too.

"Really, what are you doing here, then?" Ruthie snapped.

Cheryl widened her eyes. "Well, with that attitude, I'm not sure I should tell you that your security guards have noted your good behavior, and it's been recommended that you receive an early parole. I've spoken to Kevin recently, and he mentioned your brothers' graduation is coming up, and he was hoping that you could attend it. If all goes well, you could be released on parole for the graduation party."

Ruthie's heart thudded rapidly, not believing her ears. Sunlight, real sunlight; she could see real sunlight. But the idea of making her return into the world at such an extravagant occasion was heart-wrenching. What if her siblings didn't want her there?

"Of course, you'll have to be under direct supervision of someone at all times, seeing your many nieces and nephews will be there. The chances are that your own children will be there. With that said, direct supervision will be an essence."

Ruthie suddenly felt like a small child, being told not to leave her mommy's sight while out shopping. "You mean I'll need a parole officer with me at all times?" Ruthie questioned.

"Well, no." Cheryl replied. "I mean, you'll need a trusted adult with you at all times, and given Kevin's record, he's not qualified. Though, anyone else will work. You will also have a camera pinned on you, that way your parole officer can see who you're with at all times."

Let's talk about an invasion of privacy, Ruthie ruthlessly thought. But anything that would get her out of the hell-hole would do for her.

"But that's providing you're granted parole. I've set up a hearing for you on Wednesday. By the way, it's Monday. So, be ready and competent for your hearing in two days. And don't do anything that could jeopardize your release. Do you hear me, Ruthie?"

That shouldn't be that hard, Ruthie thought, knowing she minded her own business, whenever possible. She couldn't control what they did to her. There was a point where she had stopped noticing it. If it weren't for the pain she felt later, she would be able to completely ignore the beatings. Sometimes she missed her first cell mates. Skully and Dragon had been odd, but they hadn't done too much damage to her, only themselves.

Shortly after her sentencing, Skully and Dragon had disappeared. The security guard had come for them separately, like they did when they took her to the meeting room, only they had never come back. She assumed that they had been released or moved to another jail.

"I won't," Ruthie assured Cheryl. "Why would I? I want out of here."

"I want you out of here, too," Cheryl spoke softly. "In the meantime, there are a couple people outside who I've brought to see you. That is, if you're up to more visitors."

Sarah and Kevin had come after all?

"Hey, anything that keeps me out of that cell," Ruthie pleaded.

"Well, we've already used fifteen of your thirty minutes, so you all will have to make it quick," Cheryl insisted. She looked toward the window, seeming to give the security guard a cue. A few moments later, the door opened and two semi-familiar faces appeared.

Her heart stopped. The men's faces had aged slightly over the last four years and four months. Thin wrinkles had formed around their eyes, but Ruthie would always recognize them, no matter how wrinkled or gray they became.

Robbie and Matt looked nervous, though Ruthie couldn't blame them. They hadn't seen her in five years, and she wasn't wearing her best attire, and her hair was a mess.

She didn't know whether to be ecstatic or upset. It had been almost five years, and neither Matt nor Robbie had visited her during that time period. She hadn't thought about Robbie during that time period, either. Though, now that she thought about it, it surprised her that he too had failed to visit her. And there was no question in Ruthie's mind; the two had not come on their own freewill.

The two stood in front of the closed door. "Hi, Ruthie," Robbie smiled, an awkward tension tugged at Ruthie's heart. Robbie never called her Ruthie; he had called her "Snookie" for so many years.

Matt looked alarmed, almost ghost-stricken. "Hey, sis," he seemed to force a smile.

She shook her head. "What are you doing here?" she immediately demanded, and continued her rant. "You're obviously not here on your freewill. What, did you run into Cheryl, and did she force you to come to see me? You know, she didn't have to do that. I've been informed plenty of what you all think about me." She was angry and flustered. The warm hotness tingled against her cheeks, as she felt the skin on her cheeks flush beet red.

"Nobody forced us to come, Ruthie," Matt spoke in the calm, mature voice Ruthie had come accustomed to. It was the voice he used when he was trying to be serious. "It's a long overdue visit, and I can only say that I'm sorry that I didn't come sooner."

Robbie nodded, showing his agreement with Matt. "It has. Time has just slipped away, and I actually meant to get out here sooner, but it just didn't happen. With the two kids and my job, I've just been swamped."

"Sure." Ruthie didn't believe a word.

"Hey, Sam and David are graduating in a few days, and we're all hoping that you'll be released to come to the graduation party. I think Sam and David would like that. They do miss you," Matt insisted. "They talk about you all the time."

"Right, then why haven't they come and seen me?" Ruthie heaved a snarl.

"Ruthie, not everyone is a fan of prisons. You can't blame them for being afraid to come out to the jail," Matt insisted. "I have to admit, I was weary of coming out here. You know there are lots of creeps here… oh."

"Gee, thanks. I guess I'm a creep now," Ruthie grumbled and rolled her eyes.

"That's not what I meant," Matt insisted.

"If only you knew the hell I've had to endure," she spoke spitefully, and turned to the mirror. "Security, take me back to my cell. I don't want to deal with these douches!" She couldn't believe that she was actually asking to be taken back to her cell. But she wasn't up for putting up with Matt's crap, or Robbie's, for that matter. Neither of them would ever be able to manage a decent excuse for not coming to see her over the years.

Ruthie didn't take another look at her brother or Robbie.

A moment later, the security guard came and shoved her back in her cell. Immediately, she crawled into her little corner. She rubbed her back against the wall, hoping she could just fall asleep, and forget about everything that had happened inside that room.

She hadn't realized that the security guard had disappeared until she was spoken to. "So, girl, have any good visitors today?" a slimy voice spoke at her. When she looked up, she saw him standing on top of her, looking down. She clutched against the wall, not responding. "That's okay. You don't have to respond…it's my turn today, by the way." He continued to speak to her, kneeling on top of her.

His elbows crunched into her shoulders, and she closed her eyes, knowing it would only be a matter of time before it would be over. He spread his knees against her legs and pulled down her pants.

"Please stop," she whimpered. "I'll do anything for you, just stop. Doesn't it ever get old?"

"You know the answer to that," the other prisoner said. "And you know you like it." He was inside her, and her abdomen burned as his knees dug into her skin. As he pushed harder, he strangled his hands around her neck, so she couldn't speak. She gasped, trying to inhale the stale oxygen, but his grip was too tight.

Light headedness came, and just when she knew she was about to black out, he released his grip. Heavily, she inhaled and exhaled, taking in all the nasty air that she could.

He came off her and the tension in her lower muscles released. She felt like dirt. The feeling of dirt was one that never left her side. Night after night of the same 'game,' one might have thought she would get used to it, but she knew that she never could. Only one more night, she prayed to herself, hoping that she would be granted parole.

She had decided that it was only the nighttime security guard who truly fell asleep for prolonged periods. Ruthie feared sleeping during the night. It was late, and Ruthie couldn't blame him. After all, nothing happened when he was watching. His job had to be pretty dull. Basically, he was paid to make sure none of them killed each other. And of course none of them were dumb enough to try something while the security guard was watching. Though we were dumb enough to get caught, Ruthie noted.

The minutes and hours ticked by slow. If only she had a clock to watch, then she'd at least have a general idea of what time it was. But, no, the prison couldn't provide them with a clock. It was like they were destined to lose track of time.

She must have fallen asleep at some point, because the next thing she remembered was a different security guard—she called him the morning guard—standing by the gate. "Ruthie—visitors," were the only words he spoke. He had the cuffs out again, and opened the railing to slap them around her wrists.

Has it been two days already? She hoped to herself. Though, something told her that it hadn't. Two days would feel like two months, and she knew it. She knew that much time had not passed.

On the way to the room, they always passed a clock. The last time she had been taken to the room, she had forgotten to check it. Quickly, she made sure to glance at the clock as the guard dragged her toward the room. It read eleven-thirty. Surely, for her to have a visitor, she knew it was eleven-thirty in the morning. Nobody in their right mind would come to see her at eleven-thirty at night.

Then again, who in their right mind would come to see her at all?

For once, she truly didn't know who to expect when the door cracked open. She was alarmed when she saw Sarah sitting at the table without Kevin. Instead, she was between two young men, who Ruthie didn't recognize. Their blond hair and blue eyes were somewhat familiar, but they were too tall to be who she thought they were. One was tall and slender, whereas the other was shorter; and his hair was longer than his brother's. His face, though, was a replica of Simon's.

"Sam and David?" she questioned.

"Yo, sis. How's prison treating you?" the taller one spoke, she knew it had to be David.

Ruthie looked into her sister-in-law's watered brown eyes. "Matt and Robbie told you about yesterday, didn't they?"

"Matt's my husband, and he does generally tell me those types of things," she replied, a little dryly. "Ruthie, to be honest, well, I'm not sure if I was surprised. I was going to say I was surprised, but really, I'm not."

Ruthie looked back and forth between Sam and David, finding it hard to be angry with them, like she was with Robbie and Matt. Sam and David had only been thirteen when she had gone to prison. They were only just kids. Even though they were currently eighteen, Ruthie still saw them as kids. She would always seem her youngest brothers as kids, no matter how old she got.

It hit her. That was how Matt saw her, as a little kid. After all, Matt was eleven when Ruthie had been born, three years older than she had been when Sam and David were born. "You'll always be my baby sister," he had told her before, and she was. It almost killed him, she thought, to see me in this orange jump suit, a prisoner.

Matt had always been sensitive. He wasn't like other guys. That's no excuse, Ruthie's sub conscious told her. Simon has come to see me; and it almost killed him too. The thing was, though, Simon was closer in age to her. Ruthie remembered all the mischief she and Simon had gotten into as kids; getting lost, smoking, and all the other things they had done together. Her relationship was different with Simon.

Growing up, Matt had almost been a father figure to Ruthie. When her parents wouldn't get her something, she would go and bribe Matt. Ruthie remembered the time she had tricked Matt into getting that make-up kit for her. Matt was more than just a brother. He had been her idol.

And she was not only his kid-sister. She was his pride-and-joy. Matt had adored her when she had little, and they had only grown closer as they grew older. Even when he was away in New York, he always made an effort to keep in touch. Ruthie had known things about Matt and Sarah that no one else had. There were still things she knew, that no one else knew.

The memory suddenly triggered, remembering the one thing Matt had told her, that she was not to tell anyone, not even Sarah. It wasn't like it mattered anymore. The past was the past, and she was sure Matt had told Sarah already. After all, they had gotten back together, and Ruthie didn't know how Matt could live with that guilt and be married to Sarah.

It had been a one-night stand, after all. He claimed he wasn't attracted to Nurse Kelly. He'd been lonely, and she was the only one who would comfort him. And as it turned out, she didn't even know he was married at the time. When the word of his and Sarah's marriage got out, Ruthie was sure the nurse had felt like a fool, sleeping with a married man.

Matt had told Ruthie that it had made the whole work situation awkward, and that was part of the reason he wanted to flee back to Glen Oak. One day, after she had woken up from the coma, Matt had told Ruthie that he'd planned on moving back to Glen Oak before their father had passed away. Eric's death just seemed like an extra incentive.

Ruthie didn't know if that meant he hadn't told Sarah about the affair, or not. But so many years had passed; surely he had to have mentioned it at some point.

The room was awkwardly silent, and Ruthie knew that her time was ticking away with her brothers.

Both boys were taller than her; she felt like a midget. "Sam and David, you've grown up so much. I can't believe you're here."

"We wanted to come before," David insisted.

"But Matt didn't know if it was a good idea. He was afraid that seeing you like this would change our perception of you; he didn't want that. He wanted us to still see you as our older sister who was our role model," Sam finished David's sentence. Ruthie found it funny that at eighteen, Sam and David were still finishing each other's sentences.

"Ruthie, don't be too hard on your older brother. Really, he doesn't hate you. He just didn't want to see you like this. You were right, Cheryl was at Kevin and Lucy's talking to Kevin one Sunday, and we were all there. Cheryl insisted that Matt and Robbie come and see you, that it'd be good for you. We all know how close you were to Robbie growing up."

"Right, I understand Matt's excuse, but I don't understand Robbie's. We hadn't been close before I was arrested," Ruthie murmured. And I wonder where Lucy was when Cheryl was at the parsonage, Ruthie wondered to herself.

"That's just it, Ruthie. He hadn't been close to you, had he? Think about it, when were you last close to Robbie?" Sarah asked a good question.

When she thought about it, she realized that she and Robbie hadn't been close since he had returned for her father's funeral. Which meant, Robbie's and her friendship had ended when he left for Florida when she was thirteen. That was too many years ago.

"Robbie still sees you as a pre-teen, Ruthie. He told me that himself," Sarah told her. "I know it's hard for you to imagine, Ruthie. You're a grown woman who has gone to prison. And even though we love you, Ruthie, none of us condone what you did. We can't forgive what you did, but we can accept it, and move on. Whether you intended to do harm or not is irrelevant. You did, and it's over. All we can do is hope for a brighter future."

The quiver in Sarah's voice made Ruthie wonder if Sarah was specifically talking about Ruthie; or if there was something or someone else she was taking about. Somehow, Ruthie felt the words felt oddly familiar, and she knew that Sarah was right. She had the future to look forward to, while she was still alive. There was no changing the past, and if some of her family members and former friends couldn't accept that, there was nothing anyone could do.

She gaped at her twin younger brothers, who were no longer all-that young. When Ruthie closed her eyes, she could still see her mother cradling two blond babies in her arms. She could visualize the day the twins were born, and when all nine of them had crowded into the hospital room and sang.

More than eighteen years had passed, and Ruthie's world would never be the same.

Her eyes swelled up like a balloon, and she swallowed, trying to prevent the tears from erupting.

"Ruthie, we hope you'll be able to make it to our graduation party," Sam said, assuredly.

"Yeah, it would be nice to have our whole family there," David added.

David's voice had developed with quite a masculine tone. Sam's, on the other hand, was softer, almost feminine. Ruthie remembered when the twins were younger; she remembered how slow they used to talk. Both had grown out of that.

"I hope so, too," Ruthie whispered, hoarsely, not knowing what else to say. Before she could speak another word, or give her brothers a hug, the door barged open.

"Time's up!" the security guard growled.

No, it can't be, Ruthie thought, in denial. It didn't feel like a half hour had passed. She gazed swelteringly toward her sister-in-law and youngest brothers. The tear drops began to form, and she felt a trickle of liquid dab down her cheek.

"Don't cry, Ruthie," Sam insisted. "We'll see you soon."

But she couldn't hold back the tears when the security guard dragged her back to her cell. She didn't want the other prisoners to see her cry, but the tears were out of her control.

Ruthie curled in her corner, making sure not to make eye-contact with anyone.

Time passed, and for some reason, the security guard had an unusual close eye on the cell. Ruthie found herself glancing at him repeatedly.

Her thoughts wandered. Somewhere, he had a family. Perhaps he was married, and perhaps he had children of his own. Every man was someone's son, father, uncle, or cousin. Underneath the skin, there was so much more to a person. He was getting paid with money that supported his family; only in the meantime was he responsible for guarding the cells at the Glen Oak Community Jail.

During her own life, Ruthie had been a daughter, a sister, an aunt, a niece, a granddaughter, a wife, and most importantly, a mother. She had abused her roles, and let down everyone around her. And most importantly, she had let down her children. Because of that, she knew her children would not know her.

Candi and Clay were being raised by the devil himself. And surely, Ruthie knew that Martin would fill the kids' heads with lies. Cari, on the other hand, was being raised by a man who Ruthie barely knew, her middle school sweetheart. One thing was for sure, had the feeling Peter didn't have it in him to fill Cari's head with lies. The Peter that Ruthie had known growing up didn't have a mean bone in his whole body. But that didn't mean he hadn't changed since then. Nonetheless, Ruthie felt that Cari was better off than her brother and sister.

If only Candi and Clay were Peter's. If only it had been Peter who had come begging for forgiveness that August day that she had gone into labor.

It wasn't Peter who needed to beg for forgiveness, though. Peter hadn't done anything wrong; Ruthie had betrayed him. She had betrayed her friendship, and she had taken for granted a true friend. Peter had been there for her when Martin had betrayed her. And how had she repaid him?

If only she had never gone to Martin's that day. If only she had gone straight to the church, where Peter would have eventually driven by and picked her up.

She couldn't change the past. The past was set in stone, and the future was all she had to look forward to.

Was her future worth looking forward to? Her life was ruined. She would never be allowed to be with children alone again. She could never fulfill her original dreams of becoming a psychiatrist. Her future was shot. What would she become? When she got out of this slum, would she become a low-life bum?

Where would she live? Surely, she couldn't live with any of her siblings. All of them had kids of their own, and besides, why would they want her? They wouldn't.

~O~

"Ruthie." The sound of her name snapped Ruthie out of her thoughts. She flinched, and jerked her body around, expecting to see a security guard. Instead, to her surprise, she saw Cheryl.

"Cheryl! I'm glad to see you!" she cried, her heart raced with excitement.

"Good. And you should be, because today's the day of your arraignment. Your sister-in-law gave me some clothes for you to wear, because you'll want to look nice. Though, I suspect they'll be a tad baggy. You've lost a lot of weight, Ruthie."

She truly hadn't noticed her weight-loss, but she wasn't surprised. Day by day, she didn't feel any different. But when she looked back, thinking about how chubby she had been, she realized she could barely pinch the thin skin off the bone on her hips.

The security guard opened the bars. "I'll trust you with your attorney," he stated. "Hopefully, I won't be seeing you back here." His blue eyes twinkled, giving Ruthie a bar of hope.

Cheryl followed her into the bathroom. In the stall, Ruthie changed her clothes. When she exited the stall, Cheryl was waiting. Ruthie looked past Cheryl, into the mirror. For the first time in over four years, she saw herself wearing something other than her orange jumpsuit.

She wrapped the orange suit around her hands, and gazed at her grimy face. Her facial structure had changed. Her once baby face was gone; and instead, her cheek bones poked through her skin. Ruthie's stomach muscles tightened, and a sick feeling overturned her body.

Her head began to spin, and nausea swished through her body. Suddenly, she felt as if she could vomit. She closed her eyes, inhaling and exhaling slowly. The nausea passed.

"Ruthie, you look nice," Cheryl smiled wearily. Her eyes were gentle, as they bled into Ruthie's small coal pupils. "All you need is a little hair tune-up." Cheryl reached into her pocket and pulled out a fine comb. Softly, Cheryl inquired, "Do you mind?"

Ruthie shook her head. "Go for it. My hair is a rat's nest."

Cheryl gently began pulling the comb through Ruthie's knots. While she combed Ruthie's hair, Cheryl placed her soft hand on Ruthie's shoulder. Ruthie jumped, alarmed at Cheryl's touch.

"I'm sorry," Cheryl immediately apologized.

"No, you did nothing wrong. I didn't mean to flinch. It's just...I haven't been treated that great in prison…" Ruthie trailed, not wanting to say more.

"I can't even begin to imagine what you've gone through," Cheryl admitted. "I've seen so many clients go in and out of prison; they've been attacked and abused, and there's nothing I could d…" Cheryl went silent, seeming to have forgotten who she was speaking to.

Ruthie didn't know how to respond, knowing exactly what Cheryl was talking about. She had been abused for four years, and nobody had cared to stop it; not the security guard, not her family, and not even Cheryl. Of course, it wasn't her family's or Cheryl's job to make sure she was safe. It was the security guards, who obviously didn't care. They likely figured she deserved it, Ruthie had decided. After what she had done, she deserved the abuse she had received.

Avoiding her reflection in the mirror, Ruthie's eyes wandered toward the door. Cheryl continued to dig through Ruthie's knotted hair. She didn't say anything while she smoothed Ruthie's hair, and Ruthie's teeth curled over her lip.

When Ruthie's hair was somewhat decent, Cheryl whispered, "There." She looked away from Ruthie, and finally said, "Ruthie, I have a confession."

"Oh?" Ruthie murmured.

"I can't help but forget you're my client," Cheryl said admittedly. "It's hard, I guess because I've known your family for years, and I don't see you as the little girl you once were. I see you as a woman. I see you as me."

"Huh?" Ruthie immediately reacted. "How do I remind you of you? You never had children; you never went to prison; I don't understand."

"That's the thing. I don't know. Something about you… maybe it's the fact that you were ruined by men, too," Cheryl whispered. Before Ruthie could respond, Cheryl opened the bathroom door, and guided Ruthie out of the bathroom.

Maybe it's the fact that you were ruined by men, too. What had Cheryl meant? Ruthie's mind wandered as they made the way toward the court room. Cheryl was right. Ruthie had spent so much time and effort into getting Martin to want her, that she had become lost and hopeless. Her hatred for Martin had gone on and off, and she had managed to forgive him every time. In the meantime, she had taken advantage of Peter. Peter was a good guy, yet she was too blind to take that for granted.

(~)

When they arrived at the court room, Ruthie's heart leaped when she saw Matt, Robbie, and Simon. She was alarmed to see Matt and Robbie, figuring after how she had spoken to them, they would never want to see her again.

"Matt and Robbie," she whispered, "I'm so sorry."

"Ruthie, don't worry about it," her brother kindly smiled. "I understand."

"Yeah, don't sweat it, Snookie," Robbie's smile, which hadn't changed over the last fifteen years, warmed her heart.

"Where's Kev—?"

"Come on, Ruthie. You need to be in front," Cheryl waved at Robbie and Matt, and tugged at Ruthie's wrists before Ruthie could get her question answered.

She sat down in her seat. Cold sweat dripped from her forehead. Her stomach burned; she figured it was only nerves. The room blurred; a sharp stabbing throb pounded in her head. Her heart throbbed against the skin on her chest.

The judge sat in front of the room, looking down upon the court room. Ruthie remembered the last time she was in that exact position, when she was sentenced.

"Will everyone in the court please rise," the judge spoke. "The hearing today is set to decide if Ruthie Camden, formerly Brewer, should receive parole."

The hearing was long, and Ruthie's head ached. Cheryl spoke several times, explaining Ruthie's crime; and that while in prison, she was exceptionally well behaved.

One of the security guards came to the stand, and testified that Ruthie was never a problem, although she was the only female in a prison full of males.

At the end of the hearing, the judge said, looking directly at Ruthie, "Ruthie, judging by what I'm hearing, you've been behavior yourself, therefore, I am going to grant you parole, beginning this evening. You are to check in with your parole officer immediately after this hearing. Along with your previous agreements, you are not to be alone with a child under the age of thirteen, and you will follow all other terms. If you shall break any of these terms, then I'll be seeing you back here, which I hope not to. You are free to go."

Ruthie's heart leaped. A tear formed in her eye. Her arms flung around Cheryl's shoulders. She soon realized Matt, Simon, and Robbie were standing behind her. Matt's hand was on her shoulder. Ruthie let go of Cheryl, and wrapped her arms around Matt, then Simon, and finally, Robbie.

"Where are Kevin and Sarah?" Ruthie whispered.

"Lucy wouldn't let Kevin come, and Sarah's at the office. She had a handful of patients who scheduled before we knew about the hearing, and she couldn't just cancel on them." Matt explained, and added, "Thankfully, all the kids are in school."

Ruthie's heart pounded heavily. She hadn't seen her nieces and nephews in over four years. So much could happen in four years. Would they even remember her? She wondered what her siblings had told their children; she was sure Lucy had washed the children's minds into believing Ruthie was the Wicked Witch of the West.

~O~

After meeting with her parole officer, a tubby man who Ruthie had a feeling she wasn't going to like, she was guided out of the court house by Cheryl, her brothers, and Robbie. Matt had one arm around her, while Robbie had the other. Cheryl and Simon tagged behind. Before they hit the outdoors, Ruthie couldn't understand why they had such a tight grip on her. She figured it was so she wouldn't run.

The instance the door to the outdoors opened, before Ruthie could appreciate the fresh air, she was bombarded with press. Immediately, she heard Matt murmur, "I was hoping they wouldn't hear."

"Who told the press?" Ruthie heard Simon snarl from behind.

"Clearly, someone with connections," Cheryl stated. "And it wasn't me."

"We didn't think it was you, Cheryl," Robbie hissed. "But whoever it was, I'd personally like to be the one to take them down."

Ruthie realized she shouldn't be surprised to see a little press; though, with her initial sentencing, she hadn't seen a single reporter. Why would her case be so big now? She had visualized herself in the headlines before. "Crazy woman runs away from Christmas party to local Glen Oak Motel to attack her children."

The words had flashed across her mind before, but she figured it had been nothing more than a sub-story, nothing front-page worthy; considering the next day was the day that the word was "supposed" to end.

She could see her brother roll his eyes. "Come on, Ruthie." He tugged at her arm, and began pulling her through the crowd. His grip around her wrist was tight; she could feel the veins in her wrist begin to throb.

A female reporter with bushy brown hair tried to stop her. "Is it true? Are you really the ex-wife of Governor-Elect Brewer?"

Her mouth dried. It was the first time since her release that she took note to the warm sun beating down on her face. She felt her own perspiration drip down her face. Governor-Elect Brewer, were those the words she had actually heard? There had to be some mistake. Had prison damaged her hearing?

"Come on, Ruthie," Matt gasped, almost being sucked into the crowd. Ruthie forced her legs past the crowd.

"Ruthie—is it true that you attempted to murder your children?" she heard a reporter's voice ask. Her head began to spin with all the voices that were trapped inside her head. Her brother kept dragging her through the crowd, and Robbie's warm hand didn't leave her other hand.

Matt had reached a car, one that Ruthie didn't recognize. But when she saw its headlights flash when he pushed the button, she knew that it was their destination. Matt pulled the front-seat door open, and Robbie pushed her in the car. Matt, Robbie, Simon, and Cheryl all followed her into the car.

"Where are you parked, Cheryl?" Matt immediately asked, starting the car. The crowd of people had directed their attention to the car. People were knocking on the car. They were calling out words, though Ruthie couldn't understand them.

"I took the bus," Cheryl answered. "I don't own a car anymore. Gas is far too expensive to be driving these days."

"Tell me about it," Robbie mumbled. "That's why Patty Mary and I had to cut down to one car. Ten dollars a gallon is just too much for both of us to be driving."

Ten dollars a gallon! Ruthie gasped to herself, remembering thinking that five dollars a gallon had been expensive when she had last driven.

Matt honked at the crowd and began driving. "I'm seriously about to run these people over," he said, flatly. Ruthie shuttered, not able to imagine her older brother harming a soul. He was a doctor, after all. He saved people.

"Don't do that, Matt. We don't need another Camden in jail!" Simon cried.

"Oh hush," Matt murmured. At last, the crowd appeared to realize that the car was actually moving, and it wasn't stopping. The road started to clear. Perhaps, Ruthie figured, the people decided that it wasn't wise to stand in front of something that could run them over.

Matt started driving down the road. They were in the clear. People no longer swarmed around the car. Ruthie's eyes wandered around the sight. Immediately, she realized that she wasn't looking at the same Glen Oak she had four years ago. The town had grown. Houses had been built since she had been free. The old post office that had once been on the corner of the same street as the court house had been demolished; and a new building stood in its place. It was still the post office, only it was modernized.

Moments later, the court house was out of sight. "All right, what was that?" Ruthie demanded. "What the hell was that?"

Matt's head shook. "Ruthie…it's a long story, let's figure out where you're going, first. You can't come to my house, because, well, I don't think it'd be a good idea. We have three kids, and I'm pretty sure your parole officer wouldn't like it. I talked to Hank yesterday about you staying with him. He said he'd talk to Aunt Julie, but they never got back to me…"

"Let's get this straight. You all got me released from prison, and now I have nowhere to go?" She inhaled, taking in large breath of the stale air in the car.

"Well…" Matt started, but Cheryl interrupted.

"…you could stay with me, Ruthie. I have an apartment to myself, and there's plenty of room…and best of all, no kids. Then, tomorrow I'm sure Matt could pick you up for the graduation party."

The idea didn't seem all too bad, though Ruthie couldn't help but feel the whole situation would be awkward. Cheryl had represented her in court. How many clients stayed with their defenders? Then again, like Cheryl had said, Ruthie wasn't any client. And Cheryl wasn't any lawyer.

Inquisitively, Ruthie lifted a brow, "But what about your—?"

"—we broke up shortly after your sentencing. It's been only me for awhile now," Cheryl cut in, and quickly added, "I have to say, it does get lonely. I'd love some company." She paused. "Especially since the dogs stayed with her."

Ruthie's eyes opened with shock. She remembered Cheryl telling Ruthie that the woman and Cheryl had been together for over five years. Five years was a long time to be with someone, and then break it off. Ruthie couldn't help but wonder what had happen.

Then again, Ruthie had been married to Martin for four years.

"All right, then," Matt responded. "Ruthie, is that all right with you? I'll come and get you from Cheryl's tomorrow morning and bring you to the graduation? I think it'd be better that way. After all, I know Lucy's not going to take your release lightly."

Like I needed a reminder, Ruthie thought, and said, "I'm fine staying at Cheryl's place. It's fine." All that mattered was she had a place to stay. She wasn't spending the night on a street bench.

"All right, well, that's settled," Robbie stated.

"Now you can tell me what that was about back there," Ruthie demanded. "Why was I asked if I was the governor-elect's ex-wife?" She made sure to strongly emphasize on "governor-elect."

The car went silent, until Matt finally said, "Ruthie, shortly after Peter was granted custody of Cari, Martin fled to Sacramento. We hardly heard from him, except for when he came back with the kids for holidays. We didn't know anything, until January when Kevin and I were watching the news…and we saw him…he's running governor of California in 2018."

"How can he run for governor?" Ruthie shrieked. "Given his past, there's no way that this state would allow him to run!"

Matt shook his head, and sighed, "You're right, but technically, in the public's eyes, he's done nothing, other than appear-to-be a good father." Ruthie took note to how Matt said "appear-to-be."

Basically, from what Ruthie gathered, Matt was saying that she had done Martin a favor. By her acting like a fool, she had indirectly made Martin look good. He appeared to be the good guy, while she was the scum.

I'm an idiot, her head throbbed. Her head spun; her stomach ached; and floaters spotted all over her eyes. Her stomach rumbled with starvation. It had been four years since she had eaten real food, after living on cabbage soup and the other grub the prison had fed her for four years.

~O~

Ruthie could barely walk straight when Matt dropped Cheryl and her off at Cheryl's apartment building. If Ruthie didn't know better, she'd have thought she was intoxicated. Though, she knew it had been a good four years since she'd sipped the sweet taste of wine. Even then, she and Martin had only been occasional drinkers.

She was wobbly as she walked toward the steps to Cheryl's apartment. Cheryl grabbed Ruthie's shoulders. "Are you all right, Ruthie?"

"Yeah…fine," Ruthie murmured. "I just have a major headache. I think it's the sun beating down into my eyes. It's been so long since my eyes have seen sunlight." She blinked her eyes a few times, trying to adjust them to the sunlight, but the aching that throbbed inside her head would not cease.

"Are you sure?" Cheryl asked. "Of course, I could never imagine being locked away from sunlight for so long. But are you sure that's it?"

"I'm sure," Ruthie mumbled. Cheryl guided her into the apartment. The apartment was bare. Without the stack of dirty dishes and a stack of papers on the kitchen table, it would have looked like no one lived at the apartment. A couch was pushed against the wall, but there was no television. Other than two paintings on the vanilla-colored walls, the walls were empty. There was not a single speck of dust.

"You'll have to excuse my mess," Cheryl said. "When I'm home, I barely have the time to eat and sleep. My job never ends."

Ruthie didn't say anything. Coming out of the sunlight had only brought a sharper pain to her head. She closed her eyes, but the pain continued to stab her in the head. Go away, she thought, but it became sharper, and her stomach tossed and turned into knots.

Abruptly, she shot out of the chair. Directly in front of her, the door to the bathroom was open. She ran, avoiding Cheryl completely. Her focal point was on one thing: the toilet. Ruthie lifted the lid to the toilet, and her esophagus erupted.

The vomit seemed endless. Her throat burned as the fluids came up her throat, but when she finished, she could actually say she felt better. She flushed the toilet and took a deep breath, finally taking a moment to look around her.

It was a typical bathroom, with a bathtub, a sink, and a toilet. There were no special decorations, except a small square mirror over the sink. As she washed her hands with the vanilla-scented soap, Ruthie looked in the mirror.

Her dark pupils were small, and her olive skin was somewhat yellowish. Looking at herself, she remembered the last time she had had yellowish pigment in her skin. It had been when she was pregnant with Clay.

No, Ruthie thought, I can't be. Though, she knew very well, given the amount of times they had done it, it was very likely.

It would certainly explain her sensitiveness to light, and her recent headaches.

The thought made her sick. Being violated by so many was bad enough, but the thought of being pregnant, and not knowing the father was worse. And if she were pregnant, she knew the court wouldn't let her keep the baby. They would take the child away from her, and there would be nothing she could do about it.

Snap out of it, Ruthie, Ruthie told herself. She shook her head; her eyes shifted toward the doorway, where she saw Cheryl leaning against the wall. "Are you sure you're all right?" Cheryl asked, slowly standing up straight.

Cheryl quietly motioned toward Ruthie. Slowly, she gently ran her fingers through Ruthie's hair. Her bony fingers landed on Ruthie's shoulders, where Cheryl then massaged Ruthie's tensed-up shoulders.

"I'm fine," Ruthie mumbled, groggily. "I just need to lie down."

"Well, the couch is free," Cheryl whispered in Ruthie's ear. She guided Ruthie toward the couch.

~O~

The heavy matter weighed down her eye sockets. She must have fallen asleep the minute her body hit the couch. Ruthie rubbed her eyes with her rock-shaped fists. The crusty matter fell out of her eyes and into her fingers.

She licked her lips; the aftertaste of sleep soaked into her tongue. A toothbrush, she thought, I need a toothbrush. But she didn't have one.

Pushing herself off the couch with the little strength she had, she moved toward the window. Glancing outside, she could see that darkness had filled the street. How long had she been asleep? When she'd left the court house, Ruthie knew that it had only been early afternoon.

She looked toward the kitchen, and on the stove, she read the time: 9:20. Was it possible? Had she truly been asleep for nine hours?

Ultimately, it made sense. Ruthie couldn't remember the last time she had actually closed her eyes, and slept for a prolonged amount of time. Then again, her time in prison ran all together. She just didn't know.

Her eyes were heavy with matter. She added pressure to her eyes with her fists, trying to brush away the matter; though it still managed to linger. Her head was still heavy, like a brick was on top of her head. It was like the pain would never cease.

Suddenly, she heard whispers. Immediately, she recognized the first voice as Cheryl's. But she was talking to someone. Who else is here? Ruthie wondered.

The voices were coming from behind the closed door next to the bathroom. Ruthie pressed her ear against the door, reminiscing back to her childhood. Without a doubt, she felt like she was ten years old again. She would give anything to be so young and innocent one more time. Though, she was never innocent, but at least she hadn't carried the baggage she now carried with her every living moment of her life.

"What was I supposed to do? Put her out on the streets!" Cheryl hastily hissed. Ruthie noticed the tension in Cheryl's voice. And Ruthie knew that she herself was the "she."

"Well, I'm sure there's someone else she could have stayed with. She has plenty of family and friends—"

"—Well, I didn't see you offering your home up," Cheryl snapped back.

"I have two young children, Cheryl. Otherwise, I would have." Ruthie recognized the man's smooth voice. Robbie. A knot coiled inside her stomach.

"I honestly don't see the big deal, Robbie… and it's only for one night."

"Cheryl, think about it. You know I've respected your decisions in the past and all. We've remained friends, and I'm not here to judge you…" Robbie's voice trailed off.

"What!" Cheryl snapped, her voice became a notable high pitch. "This is about my way-of-life, I see. You think…I can't believe you think that! No, no, absolutely not. I would never…"

"…I saw the way you were looking at Ruthie on the way here, Cheryl. And Cheryl, I don't want Ruthie to get hurt. I know I've had hard time accepting that she did what she did; it hasn't been easy. But nothing can change how I feel about her. She's like a little sister to me."

A little sister, Ruthie's heart sunk. That's all I've ever been, she had heard those words so many times before. She'd been nothing more than a little sister to Martin or Mac, yet she'd pushed the limits with Martin. Had she stayed "like his little sister," then she wouldn't be in the predicament he was in.

"She's not so little anymore," Cheryl noted. "Robbie, face it, she's a grown woman, and she's capable of making her own decisions. You can't protect her…and besides, how many years were you not there for her? Maybe if you had been there, she wouldn't have done what she did."

"Let's not go there," Robbie huffed. "I've contemplated that myself. If only I could have seen it coming. But I was so focused on my own success, and then when I did return, I had my own family…if only…" He stopped, and Cheryl didn't say anything.

Ruthie turned around, her eyes aiming straight toward the front door to the apartment. I saw the way that you were looking at Ruthie on the way here, Cheryl. What did that mean? Did it mean...no, that's disgusting! Ruthie's stomached burned.

Her teeth were covered with plaque, and the taste of stomach acid fumed up her throat. She felt queasy, and she couldn't take it anymore. Fresh air, she thought, all I need is fresh air.

She exited the apartment complex. Outside, a brush of fresh air hit her. She breathed through her nostrils, filling them with the smell of the May night. Aimlessly, she started walking down the street, not knowing where she was going. Ruthie was unfamiliar with that part of town; it was the part of town her father had never let her visit growing up. It was unsafe; and it was where all the gangs lurked.

The air that surrounded her smelled different than she remembered it. Or, perhaps, it had been so long since she'd soaked fresh air that she'd forgotten what it smelled like.

Her legs moved freely, like they were carrying no weight. Though, her head felt like a balloon that was ready to pop. And her eyes were out of focus; her surrounds blurred all into one big blob as she walked.

She found herself in front of a drug store, one that she'd never been in before. It was old and run down; there was no doubt in Ruthie's mind that it had been in its same location as Ruthie was growing up.

Ruthie entered the drug store. The store was empty, and a woman who couldn't be much older than she sat at the counter, reading a newspaper. She didn't seem to take notice to Ruthie's presence.

She found herself in one specific aisle, looking down at a small box. Find out six days before your missed period, she read on the box. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had her period; though, she remembered it had been light. Ruthie blamed the lack of nutrients in the food she'd been eating.

Her hands fiddled in her pockets, realizing she had no way of paying; she didn't even have her credit card. Inquisitively, she looked around. No one was looking.

What she did next, she didn't condone, but she had no choice. Once a criminal, always a criminal, she explained to herself. She snatched the box and stuffed it in her pants pocket. Her face burned hotly, as she quickly made a run for the door.

She was outside, unnoticed, and in disbelief. What she just done? She'd gone against anything and everything she'd been taught. As far as she was concerned, she might as well be on her way to Hell.

Going back the way she had come, she found herself on the way back to Cheryl's apartment. When she would take the test, she didn't know; but for the time being, she planned to hide the test, and when she had the opportunity to be alone in the bathroom, she'd take it.

Cheryl's apartment door had been unlocked when she left, and it still was unlocked when she returned. She pushed the door open, and saw Cheryl standing in the kitchen. Robbie was gone.

"Ruthie, there you are!" Cheryl cried. "Where were you? I was worried sick about you!"

Ruthie raised a brow, and shook her head, "I went out for some fresh air." She snidely added, "I didn't know that I wasn't allowed to be myself, I thought that I just wasn't allowed to be alone with kids."

Releasing a sigh, Cheryl said, "You're free to go off on your own. I just wish you'd told me. You were asleep, I turn my back for five minutes, and you're gone!"

Ruthie shrugged, not knowing how to respond. She pressed her hands against her pant pocket; they were the same pants she'd been wearing since the hearing.

Cheryl's own eyes seemed to take note to the placement of Ruthie's hands. She frowned. "Let's find you something to change into; I'm sure that I have something that will fit you. We're about the same size." She placed her hand on Ruthie's shoulder, causing Ruthie to flinch. Immediately, Cheryl removed her hand and murmured, "I'm sorry."

Ruthie didn't reply. She followed Cheryl into the bedroom. Cheryl began digging through her drawer, looking for something Ruthie could wear.

"Here we go," she said, acting accomplished. She held out a pair of black sweat pants and a white shirt. "This should fit you…here." She handed the outfit to Ruthie, and stared at Ruthie. "Oh…I'll leave and let you change."

"No," Ruthie immediately responded. "I'll go to the bathroom…I'd like to take a shower, if that's okay."

"Oh, yes, of course. Go for it." Cheryl nodded. Ruthie couldn't help to notice Cheryl's flushed cheeks. Awkwardly, Ruthie removed herself from the room, and headed into the bathroom.

She locked the door behind her, and immediately pulled the stolen box out of her pants. Ruthie ripped the box open and stared at the small object inside the box. Immediately, Ruthie noticed that the technology had changed since she'd last used one. Its shape was still stick-like, and a small digital screen was in the center.

Now reusable! Never buy another pregnancy test again! Ruthie read on the box. Her heart pounded ferociously as she hovered over the toilet. She pulled the test out, and relived a familiar process, one she'd done thrice before.

She held the test in her hand; her head felt as if it were in a cloud. Her eyes glanced back at the box on the sink counter. Know instantly! The words shot up from the box. Technology really had improved.

For a moment, she closed her eyes, setting the test on the counter, not reading its results. She turned around and turned the shower knob on, and the water began flowing, splashing against the edge of the shower. She inhaled through her nose, and look back toward the counter. Hesitantly, she grabbed the object, and held it in her hands. Flipping it over, she took one last breath before reading the word.

Pregnant

The moisture sucked out of her throat, and she wanted to scream. Instead, she threw the object on the counter, and stripped the clothes she wore off her body. She stepped into the shower, and began washing the filth that covered her skin.

As she massaged the Dove soap around her body, her hands kept stopping on her bare abdomen. She was bloated, and now it all made sense. This one had no father.

She didn't know what she was going to do, or how she was going to tell people. Ruthie knew that she couldn't physically keep a baby; a court wouldn't allow her to keep a child. They can't take my baby away from me, she thought. They can't have him or her.

Despite the circumstances, and despite all she'd gone through, Ruthie believed every baby was an angelic creature from Heaven. It didn't matter who the father was, or the trauma Ruthie had been through. No innocent child deserved to suffer, knowing his or her father was a rapist.

Her stomach was on fire as she stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel from inside Cheryl's bathroom closet. She wrapped herself up, allowing the water dripping off her body to soak into the towel. Her hands froze over her stomach.

A pound came from the bathroom door. She jerked her body toward the door.

"Ruthie, are you almost done in there? Are you all right?" Cheryl's voice choked.

Instantly, she stuffed the pregnancy test in her pocket and called, "Yeah, I'm fine…I'm just—just drying my hair." In the corner of her eye, she had seen a blow dryer. She plugged it into the wall and turned it on.

Cheryl said something, but Ruthie couldn't make the words out over the sound of the hair drier on her hair. She closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of the hair drier brush against her body. For a moment, she felt the tension release in her muscles. It was a feeling she hadn't felt in years.

When her hair was sufficiently dry, she turned the hair drier off. Carefully, she opened the door, where she saw Cheryl sitting on the couch, reading a book. Immediately after Ruthie had opened the door, Cheryl dropped her book. Her eyes lit up as she smiled, "You're done."

"Yeah…" Ruthie murmured.

"Say, I've decided that you can have my bed…I'll sleep on the couch," Cheryl insisted.

"No!" Ruthie cried, immediately. "I couldn't do that. It's your bed, and I don't deserve to sleep on a bed. Really, you're being too kind to me. I'm a terrible person, and I don't deserve your kindness…" Ruthie felt a tear form in her eyes. "In fact, I'm better off on the streets. That's where I belong."

She covered her eyes with her hands, and before she knew it, she'd fallen into Cheryl's arms. "I don't think you're a bad person, Ruthie. You were just in a bad situation, there, there." Cheryl's voice was soothing, but Ruthie didn't believe the words Cheryl spoke.

Cheryl rubbed her palm against Ruthie's back, gently massaging her, releasing the tension from Ruthie's shoulders. Together, they moved into the bedroom, where Cheryl sat Ruthie on the bed. Ruthie looked up, toward Cheryl's glimmering eyes.

A moment later, Cheryl took a seat next to Ruthie, and Cheryl's arm wrapped around Ruthie. Ruthie buried her head in Cheryl's chest. Cheryl's arm moved down Ruthie's shirt, and the skin on Cheryl's fingers rubbed against Ruthie's elbow. Ruthie bent her neck up, rubbing her nose against Cheryl's cheek. The smell of Cheryl's cherry blossom perfume flared Ruthie's nostrils.

Cheryl's lips brushed against Ruthie's. It was a feeling Ruthie had never felt before. The taste of cherry deliciously soaked into Ruthie's tongue. She couldn't believe what she was doing, but she couldn't stop.

Her hands fell underneath Cheryl's T-shirt, which she'd changed into since Ruthie had gone into the bathroom. Cheryl's hands moved down Ruthie's waist removing the shirt that Ruthie wore on her own body.

The two lie bare next to each other. Ruthie's stomach tightened. Her nerves set off signals they'd never sent before. She'd been born a new person.


Author's Note: Please leave me a review, even if it happens to be a flame. And like I said, the second part to this – the grand finale – will hopefully be out in about a week. My schedule is hectic, as I'm balancing work and school, and my design classes are no cake walks, but I'm still writing whenever I get the chance.