One foot in and one foot back
But it don't pay to live like that
So I cut the ties and I jumped the tracks
For never to return

-The Avett Brothers

Chapter 2

I may or may not be in over my head, I thought as I watched Diana go at my skin with another stich.

The entirety of the car ride to her humble cottage in the woods was filled with questions; where I came from, how I got these injuries, why did I come here. I wasn't sure exactly what to respond with, should I tell her the truth and risk word somehow getting around to him or should I lie to the first person who has shown me compassion in months.

I settled by not saying anything at all. Which, surprise to me, Diana was okay with. She did not press me to an uncomfortable level on the questions she asked, she instead prattled on about her life. She filled the quiet with stories of her house and how her son had built it for her when he was just a teen. About how she retired from nursing but wasn't ready to not work, so she opened up a diner downtown. She talked gossip about the older men and women in town that she grew up with. She talked honestly and earnestly, whatever came to her mind she said. That was one thing about Diana I was beginning to enjoy, she could talk with little encouragement and with brazen truthfulness.

There were only two questions that Diana required me to answer before entering her house, not allowing silence and non-committed nods to by my response. It was right after we had gotten to her home and before we had actually gone inside. We were walking up the steps when she abruptly turned and looked up at me, dead in the eyes. It took me by surprise as this was the closest I had been to her thus far. Staring down into her eyes, framed by skin crinkled from age, something in the brown depths seemed familiar to me.

She stared me down for a minute, as if to size me up before finally saying, "I don't make it common practice to invite complete strangers into my house. Now that being said I need to know two things and I must insistent that I get a verbal and truthful answers before I can let you enter into my home."

I tensed, suddenly on edge and keenly aware that I had just gotten into a car with a complete stranger, one of whom I allowed to drive me to the middle of the forrest without any protest. I really need to be a little less trusting, I thought to myself as I prepared myself for the questions she was about to ask.

She paused for one more dramatic second before saying, "Firstly, it is obvious to me from the bruises and the giant bleeding cut in your side that you are tangled up in something you don't want to talk about. I am okay with allowing you your privacy for now, I just need to know one important thing, are you tangled up in any illegal activity?" I nodded my head 'no' in response and then she continued, "Secondly… what is your name?" She had a wicked grin on her face, knowing that she had been a little theatrical.

I had visibly sagged with relief, "Emma" I told her easily, wondering how we had come this far without it coming up. I felt happy that she presented two question I at least didn't have to lie about. My name was Emma and I had not done anything illegal.

"Emma," she had thought on it for a moment "that's a good name. Well Miss Emma, please come on in and let's get you sorted out."

Inside she gave me a brief tour of the house, which was just as quaint as it looked on the outside. A simple two-bedroom house nestled into a cleared out portion of the woods. Inside it was modestly decorated, but it had the feeling of home. Diana showed me to the room I was staying in, her sons old room. It was decorated in sports memorabilia and was mainly occupied by the giant king size bed.

She then quickly ushered me to the bathroom where she instructed me to take off my hoodie so she could get a good look at the gash. I gingerly removed it, body sore from the beating that I had received just a day earlier. She looked over the bruises on my upper body, her eyes cataloging each one. She spent a particularly long time inspected the large bruise on my back, her fingers barely ghosting over the edges of it. I waited for the questions to start back up again but instead she delicately undid my haphazardly applied bandages, and layer after layer came off I saw her face become more and more worried and once we got down to the actual slice she physically winced. I once again prepped myself for the questions but instead her expression had harden with focus and she went into full medical mode as she instructed me that I need to shower and clean off before she could stich me up.

Diana left me alone for a bit after instructing me on where the towels and washing supplies were located. I quickly stripped and took care of the business at hand, after seeing the gash again I understood what she meant by me needing medical attention. In the shower I was able to do a full inventory of my scared and battered body. Along with the damage I knew about there was a small cut on my right thigh and bruising that surrounded it pretty badly.

Just from my quick observations I could tell that this was the worst I had gotten it since the trip to Port Angeles ten months ago. That was by far the worse he had ever done to me, I couldn't leave the house for a month and the scars he inflicted were daily reminders of that trip. This rivaled that experience.

I had sat, wrapped up in a towel, on the ledge of the tub while Diana did a once over on me. She was nothing but a professional, I could see her years of training in her motions and eyes as she doctored me up. She had decided that I need a few stiches on my thigh as well as the gash on my side. She had numbed them up waited, after a few awkward moments of relative silence she began stitching. After finishing quickly on my thigh she had lay on my side while she went to work sowing the delicate skin back together again.

Diana finished, tied off the last stitch, and then wrapped the wounds with clean bandages. She then brought in some very loose fitting clothes and helped me change into them without aggravating my newly taken care of wounds. I could tell by the size that the shirt, and the fact that the shorts were actually just a pair of boxers, that the clothes had previously belonged to a very large man, my guess was either a husband or her son. Afterwards she told me to go wait for her on the couch while she cleaned up in here.

As she cleaned I looked around and realized that there were no pictures of Diana with a husband or boyfriend, only a few of her and a happy, young boy. Eventually Diana made her way back over to me, I saw that in her hands she was holding a scrapbook-like object in her hands. It looked old and weathered, dust spots evidently on the front. I wondered why she had taken it out to show me. I was just about to ask when she began speaking.

"Emma I am going to be straight with you," she said, looking down stroking the book in front of her. "I am not a religious person but I do believe people come into your life for a reason. I don't know anything about you but I do believe that I was the person you were supposed to find today."

I was really confused by what she was saying but kept myself from interjecting a question.

"Few people know of what I am about to tell you, and it may be because you are a stranger that I feel so open about telling you, but I think it will be good for the both of us."

She opened the book and handed it to me, the first page was a picture of a younger Diana a large man that had the same look of the other native folk here on the reservation.

"When I was 16 I got mixed up with the wrong guy, or maybe he was the right guy, because I did get a beautiful son out of him," she turned the page to a picture of the two where Diana looked to be 6-8 months pregnant. "I was so wrapped up in this man, I lost the value of myself. I felt that I had to be what he wanted me to be and that when I failed to be that," she stopped and looked me in the eye, "I felt I deserved what I got from him."

I was starting to realize what she meant by 'what I got from him' and I started to close the book saying, "I think you are confused I– "

She cut me off again, "I have seen bruises like yours before, and I am not just talking about the fresh ones. I mean the ones that line your body just in the right places where no else can see them. The ones that fade from purple to blue to green to yellow, but never quite go away before another one is added to replace it." I feel my throat start to constrict and my chest get tight as she continued on.

"I know the feeling of dread whenever you are alone in the same room as him, and the way you try and rationalize with yourself that it is your fault that this is happening to you. If only you had been a little better at cooking, or if you had just said the right thing this wouldn't be happening. Deep down though, you know it is not your fault. You do everything perfectly for this man; cook, clean, dress appropriately, act the right way and even then he finds a reason to hurt you."

At this point both of us have silent tears falling down our faces, I have never told anyone. I don't even know this woman, but she is describing in perfect detail what my life has been like for the past three years. I keep flipping and see that pictures of the couple fade away and transition to pictures of a happy little boy and a glowing Diana.

"I know it is hard to see it now but we are very similar Emma, only you got away earlier than I did. I spent too many years with that asshole," she spits the word like it is dirt in her mouth, "and I don't know your situation. I am not asking you to spill your guts to me right tonight, or tomorrow, or even in a month. I just want you to understand, that if by any means I am right in assuming that our stories are somewhat connected, you have a place here with me."

She finishes her speech and I am focused on the vaguely familiar face of a happy three or four-year-old child being held by his mother. I hand back her book, "Thank you," I mutter quietly as I stand up to walk to the bedroom I am staying in.

Right after I get to the door I turn back I look at her still sitting on the couch facing away from me and I contemplate what I want to say.

"His name-" I pause feeling like if I say it he will appear, "His name is To-" my mouth dried up around the name and I cleared my throat before more clearly saying, "Tom. If he ever finds me he won't hesitate to kill me," I say this quietly. It was almost like was I afraid to admit it to myself. I paused for another minute before I walked the rest of the way into the room and close the door silently behind me.

I slipped under the cool covers and buried myself in the smell clean air and the woods, the smell is comforting and it has a way of soothing me. I allow myself to cry for a little bit, but then pull myself together. As I am reflecting on how drastically my life has changed in the past 48 hours I realize one thing for sure.

I don't understand how I got so lucky to walk into the right diner, in the right city, and at the right time but I finally feel like I might actually be okay.

Author's Note

Still going through and re-editing. The reviews I have gotten have been amazingly encouraging and I am hoping on publishing the next chapter tomorrow.