Tori’s taken the day off of work again and I’m starting to feel bad about it. Then again, she kind of created this mess, didn’t she? I push the thoughts out of my mind as she chats on the phone with her mom. She’s made a pretty good point of staying in the room with me, occasionally reading, mostly on her laptop, but she’s spent a good amount of time talking to me. She wants to know everything. What my life was like as a kid, favorite color, favorite book, and so on. I’m hesitant to answer at first but she gets easier to talk to the longer I do it. Sometimes I forget that I’m trapped here but I’m always pulled back to reality, one way or another. 

“So um…Tori,” I say to her as she's tapping away at her keyboard. The typing ceases and she turns her chair to face me. I take a deep breath and ask my question. “How…long are we going to do this? I mean…keep me here.”

“Hm,” Tori shrugs. “Well, my hope is to get you sorted out so you can either live on your own or with me. Eventually you’ll have more freedom, but for right now…”

“Why can’t I have freedom now?” I don’t know why I’m asking. I’m starting to get it but I guess I just want to hear her say it.

“Told you, Rylee,” She reiterates. “Your parents did a shitty job, you don’t know anything about the world or…at least not enough to survive in it.”

“And…how is that your problem?” I offer as a weak counterpoint. She smiles softly.

“Because I’m human,” she tells me. “And if we don’t take care of each other, who will?”

Utterly philanthropic but if it works for her, then it works, I guess. She explains to me that she’s been e-mailing back and forth with her mom, the social worker, and that she may be stopping by later today. I balk at the idea of bringing yet another person into this, but I’ve learned by now that my opinion holds little weight here. Instead of arguing I let her continue to talk until finally she announces that we should go to the living room for our trash TV session.

The trip down the hallway is still awful but now it stings rather than burns. Either I’m healing, or Fiona’s bandaging job is working miracles. She’d changed it this morning, before leaving for work. I’d laid in the bed and stared up at her as she put a towel under my feet, took the bandages off, and then quickly redid them. She looked like absolute shit – like someone who’d spent a high on a couch instead of in her own bed. 

I stumble ever so slightly as Tori walks me down the hall, but she steadies me with her left hand while simultaneously steering me toward the couch. 

“Here we go,” she tells me as she lowers me to the cushions. I bring my hands to my lap the moment she lets me go, making myself as small as possible against the corner of the couch. She grins and tells me I’m adorable and the confusion sets in almost immediately. No one’s ever called me that before and I have no idea why she’s doing it now. I look up at her slowly, trying to glean a clue from her expression and she gives me a warm smile in return. Am I allowed to be happy here? There’s a tension in my chest that’s been there for the last few days as I wait for the other shoe to drop and as soon as it does, the urge to run will be in full effect but it’s been lessening with each hour. Tori doesn’t seem to want to hurt me. Fiona is mean but…she got my pills, didn’t she? What was I freaking out about? 

-Getting sloppy, Rylee

I know. I know.

“No TV dinner today,” she tells me, setting a wooden TV tray in front of me. “I made you a sandwich. Really hope you like salami.”

“Salami’s fine,” I tell her. She nods but then pauses, looking at me.

“But what’s your favorite?” She asks me. She elaborates when I give her a questioning look. “Like, lunch meat. Do you like turkey? Roast beef?…”

“Oh!” My eyes light up with recognition. “Um…this is going to sound dumb but I like olive loaf a lot.”

“No shit?” She laughs. “I’ll pick some up when we go out today.”

She’s in the kitchen in an instant, returning quickly with the sandwich on one of her clear glass plates and as she sets it down, she hesitates for a second.

“Um…” she says with a moment of uncertainty. “Do you want a soda now, or for dinner? If you have one now you can’t have it for dinner but you can have milk, or juice.”

I pause for what must have been a full ten seconds before looking up at her. She’s got a grin on her face and it’s accompanied by a slight chuckle as she shakes her head.

“Sorry,” she says, laughing. “Big sister mode in full effect I guess. Get used to it!”

My expression changes to one of confusion and she laughs again. I want soda but she’s saying I can’t have it for both lunch and dinner, so what do I do? I open my mouth to speak but the indecision is eating me from the inside out. Luckily, she saves me.

“Hey what if you have juice for lunch and then soda for dinner? Soda is better at night anyway, right?”

I nod, a weight suddenly lifted off of me as the decision is snatched from my shaking fingers. Tori brings me a glass of apple juice and tells me to drink it slow. 

The sandwich is good – way better than anything I would have made. She’s toasted the bread on one side and added a slice of Kraft cheese to the salami. I watch from the couch as Tori begins to cook herself a TV dinner and partway through, she peeks over the counter and asks if I’m having fun watching her. I immediately turn away and she reassures me, after she laughs hysterically for a few seconds.

“I’ve gotta go back to work tomorrow,” she tells me as she takes a bite of her spaghetti dinner and looks at me.”

“What am I gonna do alone here all day?” I phrase the question as sarcasm, partially because it’s more of a question. Are you going to leave me alone here? If she does then it’s time for me to get moving. I’ll have to wait an hour or so just to make sure she’s not watching and then I can slip out the back door. My feet are going to be a problem but I think I saw a pair of work boots stuffed at the back of Tori’s closet that can hold me together while I make a run for it. 

-You’re back to stealing her stuff again, heh

Shut up

-Never

Tori takes another bite and then shakes her head and says,

“You wish, Rylee. Nah, my mom’s going to keep you company. She already knows about you. Well most everything. I don’t think she has Fiona’s background check but she knows…what happened.”

My escape plans are quashed and I feel sort of…relieved? I’m careful to not let her see my disappointment OR my relief but I feel like she sees right through me anyway since she pats my hand, quickly and then withdraws her hand just as quickly, blessedly cutting off the physical contact as quickly as it started. 

“Oh…” I say, and my statement is a reaction to two different things. Tori seems to catch this and answers immediately to quell my confusion.

“She knows about you breaking in. No, she’s not mad, she just wants to have a conversation with you.”

“To yell at me probably,” I murmur. I’m staring at the sandwich rather than eating it; my appetite is vanishing by the second.

“She doesn’t do that, Rylee. Remember how I said she’s a social worker? I told you that, right? Well, she is. She just wants to check up on you and see if you need anything. Like, I’m doing what I do, and Fiona’s good with medical stuff, but you’ve been through a lot and you could use someone to help with that.”

“Okay,” is all I can manage to say to that. My parents got ‘someone to help’ too, and that didn’t turn out well. For me. Still, what can I even say to her? 

I nibble at my sandwich while she turns the TV on. She flips to the usual trash TV and we start with an episode of Ellen. I really hate these talk shows, mostly because I know they’re garbage but it’s so hard to turn them off once they get going. You know that one analogy about the trainwreck you can’t look away from? Yeah, it’s like that. At least the sandwich is good; Tori’s sprinkled potato chips on it, and the mayonnaise was a nice touch. I want to tell her I like it but she’s too absorbed in the TV show for me to interrupt. I manage to finish half the sandwich before she looks at me and asks if it’s okay.

“You’re eating kind of slow, you okay?” She asks me. 

I want to point out that it’s a stupid question. Am I okay? Well, she’s kidnapped me and I’m trapped here in her house doing whatever she and her best friend want and now her mom’s going to get involved? That’s pretty fucking far from okay, but- “Yeah I’m okay, I’m just a slow eater. My parents didn’t like it either.”

She scrunches up her face and shakes her head at me. “Eat as slow as you want, Rylee. I’m just making sure you’re okay.”

At some point she feels we’ve had enough daytime TV(thank god) and she announces she wants to get started on the guest room. She doesn’t tell me to stay on the couch, but she hands me the remote and wanders off down the hall. I try to let the TV hold my attention as I hear her rummaging around back there but eventually my curiosity gets the better of me and I find myself heading down the dark hallway, my fingers trailing the drywall to keep myself steady as I come to the open door. 

Fiona’s right: this does look like a flea market. I lightly grip the door frame and pull myself forward, taking a peek inside the room where Tori is sitting next to towering piles of boxes and carefully examining items that she’s tossing into one pile or another. I lean in a little further, trying to see what she’s holding and I almost smile at the pensive look on her face. It’s a stark contrast to the harsh, all-business attitude she’s had with me over the last few days. This makes her seem almost…human.

The jigs up when I start to pull away and she catches my eyes. My heart drops and panic rises in my chest as if the two are counterweights of each other and I immediately pull away from the door. 

Shit, shit, SHIT

I know I’m not supposed to be here, I know she told me to wait on the couch. No, wait, did she? Yes, surely she did. I turn to my left and immediately begin to make my way back to the living room. My chest tightens but somehow my breathing is speeding up as my gear threatens to beat out of my chest. 

She saw me

She saw me

She SAW me.

I barely register the pain in my feet and I’m halfway down the hall now. Maybe she didn’t see me after all. Maybe-

“Hey, Rylee,” she says. I slowly turn, shaking, eyes wide as I look at her. She’s sticking half out of the bedroom door, her hand on the wall for support as she looks at me. “Hey, I found a few things for you,” she says. “I think there’s enough of a path for you to make it through here.”

I blink and stand there in sheer confusion. She…isn’t mad at me? Why isn’t she mad? Numbly, apprehensively, I follow her into the guest room along a carefully cleared path between boxes, a loose chair, and other odds and ends until we come to the point she’d been sitting in.

She indicates a large cardboard box she’d been going through, full of her clothes from a few years ago. We go through them together and she’s careful to let me pick what I want rather than interjecting too much. All in all, we added about ten tops and six skirts to my wardrobe which is saying a lot, as I don’t have any, and I don’t even have a wardrobe. She also brings a winter coat out of the room’s closet for me; it’s a pink corduroy with brass buttons and a drawstring at the waist.

“We’ll put it in my closet,” she tells me. “You know, just in case this room isn’t cleared out by winter.”

“By winter?” My eyes widen. “I’m still going to-”

“Yup,” she says, cutting me off before my mind can even conceptualize the end of that sentence. “told you, you’re not leaving. Okay I’ve got a problem. I either need to rent a dumpster or a storage unit. Fiona’s right, this is a shit show.”

“It’s not that bad,” I say in a rather unconvincing tone that probably means ‘please don’t do all this for me’ and she shakes her head.

“Nah, you need a place to sleep, and I need to be less messy. It’s gotta suck sleeping in my bed, yeah?”

I don’t have an answer for that.

“How are your feet?” she asks me. I instinctively look down and shrug. “still hurt?”

“A little,” I tell her. Okay at least that was the truth. They have gotten better over the last two days. 

“I’ll have Fiona look at them when-” she stops suddenly, and we’re both startled by the sound of the front door opening. She must have seen me tense up and immediately begin to start searching the room for exits.

Window?

-It’s blocked off. Use the door.

And go where?

-Uh

“Tori?” A woman’s voice calls and I see Tori visible relax. She mouths the word ‘mom’ to me and points toward the door.

---

Tori’s mom is a middle aged woman with roughly the same build as her daughter and jet-black hair – a compliment to Tori’s dark red and pulled up into a messy bun. She’s dressed in a silky black tracksuit with the hoodie zipped up partway and she looks…tired. I stand close to Tori, maybe a little too close but she doesn’t seem to mind as she lays an arm over my shoulder and pulls me in enough that I can rest my head against her shoulder. 

“Hey mom,” Tori says. “You weren’t supposed to be here until-”

“Tomorrow, yeah,” Tori’s mom rolls her eyes. “You expected me to stay away after all those emails? Thought you were smarter than that, girl.” And then to me: “You must be Rylee.”

“Yes ma’am,” I say softly, earning a look of amusement from Tori.

“This one’s polite,” Anette remarks, stepping toward us. “Maybe too polite. Tori, give us a minute?”

“Sure thing, mom,” Tori raises her hands in mock annoyance and disappears back to the guest room, leaving me alone with her mother.

“Rylee,” she says with a reassuring smile. “My name is Anette, I’m Tori’s mom. I know what happened, that you broke in, and no one’s mad at you, okay?”

“Okay,” I say, not really believing it, but she seems to catch my skepticism and motions toward the couch where we both take a seat. She takes a deep breath and then lets out an exaggerated sigh as she claps her hands together, holding them out in a mock prayer before dropping them to her lap and continuing.

“Rylee,” she says. “Did my daughter kidnap you?”

I freeze, unsure of what to say, so she presses harder.

“She told me what happened and she told me you were going to be staying here for a while. Did she force you? Rylee she’s not here, she’s in the bedroom and can’t hear you. If you want to leave, tell me now and I’ll take you out of here. Police station, hospital, hell the fire station. Just say the word.”

I should tell her yes. I should have her get me the hell out of here. That’s what I want, right? It’s what I wanted a few days ago, it’s…

“No,” I hear myself say. “I’m okay. I mean here, I’m okay here.”

-What the fuck are you doing?

I…I don’t know.

Anette frowns, asks me if I’m sure and then probes a little further.

“I…I feel safe,” I manage to blurt out. “Here…with her. She’s a little scary sometimes but…”

“Okay, Rylee,” she nods. “Okay let’s talk through this, then. I talked to Fiona, and she says you’re on the autism spectrum, that true?”

I nod, immediately looking away, toward the kitchen. “I was…diagnosed when I was a kid. I guess…I mean…they tell me I didn’t talk a lot until I was…nine? I think?”

“Okay, yeah, okay Rylee,” Anette says. “And you…have trouble with touch? What does it feel like to you?”

“It’s like…being electrocuted,” I admit. “I just…don’t like it. But sometimes when Tori hugs me I like it a lot. I’m confused about that? I guess? Because I hate being touched and I never liked it when my mom hugged me but…”

“Well that makes sense,” she tells me. “Tori can be pretty affectionate. But, also, a hug is way more than a hug when you feel safe with the person. Maybe…you feel safe for the first time.”

I can’t help it: I break into a wide grin and wrap my arms around my chest, squeezing myself and rocking back and forth, which is kind of a weird reaction but Anette doesn’t seem surprised or bothered. She simply continues talking.

“She’s okay with you staying here,” Anette tells me. “And from what I see right now…I would be okay with it too. But Rylee, Fiona told me you tried to run yesterday, is that true?”

My face flushes; I drop my arms and immediately drop my head and nod. My hands are visible, folded now against my lap and I focus only on them, folding and cracking the knuckles and twisting until the world around me starts to-

“Rylee,” Anette snaps her fingers, and I snap back to reality, looking up at her wide-eyed. Every muscle in my body tenses and I pull back, squinting, ready for…something, but whatever it is, doesn’t happen. Anette watches me for a moment and then continues once I have myself under control. “Rylee, if this is where you want to be, then you need to stop trying to run. I know you’re scared, I know horrible things have happened to you but all of that? It’s over. My daughter…Tori has a good heart and while I think she’s taken on too much, she’s going to have help. There’s going to be Fiona, and me, and that means we’re involved. Do you understand?”

“I…I think so?” I try to process what she’s just said but I’m coming up empty.

“I mean,” she says “that you have to cooperate. Stop trying to run. Where are you going to go? Do you have a favorite bridge to sleep under?”

I watch her, utterly speechless as she tears me apart. She’s right, I mean, it’s obvious that Tori is trying to help me, and Fiona so what the fuck am I doing?

What the fuck are you doing?

“I…I’m just scared…sometimes,” I admit through labored breaths. “I don’t really know her and I didn’t expect to be here very long and…and…and…”

“Do you need to take a break, Rylee?” Anette suggests. She nods and pats my arm. “Let’s take a break.”

She stands up and walks to the kitchen, telling me to stay seated as I make a vain attempt to follow her. She opens the fridge and asks me if I want Pepsi or Mountain Dew.

“Oh um…I’m not allowed until supper,” I call back. Anette freezes and turns around, walking back to the counter so she can see me. She leans forward and places her elbows on the counter. She’s smirking and raising an eyebrow at me.

“Who says you’re not allowed?” She asks, a hint of laughter clings to the edge of her words as she forces herself to hold back laughter. “Was it Tori?”

I freeze, wondering if I should answer that. Would Tori be mad? Unfortunately she reads my silence as an affirmative and chuckles. 

“Rylee,” she says with a laugh. “As Tori’s mother I give you permission to have a soda now and at dinner. Okay?”

I freeze. What am I supposed to do here? Tori told me to wait until dinner…no..she let me choose juice or soda, and I chose juice, right? 

“Mom!” Tori storms out of the guest room and thuds down the hall. She steps up to the kitchen counter and I immediately notice she’s holding the Super Nintendo, which she sets on the counter. “Stop confusing her!”

“I’m not trying to confuse her, Tori,” Anette says. “And Tori, bedroom let’s go. We need to talk.”

“Hook that up and play something,” Tori points to the Super Nintendo before turning and dashing down the hall after Anette.

---

They’re gone for about half an hour; I’m playing Super Mario World when Anette returns alone, briefly apologizing for Tori and taking a seat on the couch beside me.

 “I had to give her a lecture,” Anette tells me. “I want everyone on the same page when I say that kidnapping is wrong. Anyway, let’s have a serious conversation, Rylee. Fiona won’t give me the background check but I trust her when she says there’s something in it I shouldn’t see, so let’s start with the basics. You had…a not-so-positive relationship with your parents and when you left home you…maybe we should gloss over that. For now. And now you’re here.”

“Y- yeah,” I say; my voice is small and cracking. “I just .. didn’t like my parents.”

“You don’t need to justify it to me,” Anette tells me, shaking her head and giving a dismissive gesture. “I’ve been doing this long enough to know the truth when I hear it. Rylee I hate to say it but you look awful. Tori’s feeding you, right?”

There’s not much to do other than answer her questions and as I do, I hate how at ease I start to feel. It’s like being in a swimming pool, when you’re a kid and you’re not sure if you want to let go of the side. To drift off into the waves. Oh you know it’s probably safe – it’s a pool and there are lifeguards but there’s always that one slim chance that you slip beneath the surface unnoticed. That’s what I feel like right now, like I’m letting go, like I’m trusting their ability to save me. I hate it. I’m terrified. 

During the course of our conversation she fetches a dental mirror from Tori’s closet and checks my teeth, which she says are fine, and as time goes by I feel more comfortable talking to her. She’s much easier to talk to than Tori, after all. Her voice is soothing, she gives me opportunities to talk and before I know it I’m spilling all of my secrets. Well, most of them. Eventually, Tori make her way out of the bedroom, asking if we’re done.

“Just about,” she says in response to Tori. “Rylee I need to make sure we’re clear about everything.”

I frown, slightly confused. What did we just talk about? It was important, right? Fortunately, Anette saves me.

“No running away, you’re here now. Do you understand that, young lady?”

I perk up at being called ‘young lady’ and then I eagerly nod. 

“I’m sorry,” I say to Tori, looking away sheepishly. “I mean…I didn’t…”

“It’s okay to be afraid, Rylee,” Tori sits on the couch and does a half-turn toward me; I shiver as she takes my hand and smiles. “But you don’t have to be afraid now. Not of me, or of Fiona, or Mom. Understand?”

“I…I think so?” I frown and press my fingertips into the couch cushion, allowing the material to stretch the skin until there just enough of a sting to satisfy me. Tori looks down at my hand, pinching her eyebrows together but says nothing. “I just…I don’t know why you want me here. Like, why you even care if I run away because…” there’s so much I want to say but I feel like I have no way to get it out. My emotions are bursting but as usual.my body isn’t showing it. A smile, a frown, laughter, something. Anything. There’s nothing I can do to express how I feel, so I find myself gripping my fingers, twisting; I roll my shoulder blades and twist harder when suddenly, Annette’s hand is on mine, pressing something into it. I stop and look at it; it’s…some kind of toy. Like a plastic chain with tight links that can be twisted every which way. I give it a try, wrapping it around my hand and then unwrapping. I twist it, squeeze it, straighten it out and then fold it up. 

“Better?” Anette asks me softly. I nod, not looking at her. “It’s called ‘stimming’ or self stimulation. Your brain doesn’t really shut down and your hands need to be constantly busy so we try to give our autistic clients some kind of fidget toy, especially during sessions.”

“Mom, I…,” Tori begins to speak but trails off. I focus on the green and white ‘fidget toy’ that I’ve been given.

“Autistic kids don’t come with a manual,” Anette says. “Unless you count the DSM-IV, and even that can be touch and go. You sure you want to do this, kiddo?”

This is it. This is my out. Tori’s finally going to understand what it takes to deal with someone like me. She’ll have her mom take me somewhere, or maybe she’ll just let me walk out of here. Either way, this is over and I’m glad it ended while they still like me. 

“Can you get more of those fidget toys?” Tori asks Anette, indicating the plastic chain wrapped about my hands. My jaw nearly hits the floor as she continues. “She was having a meltdown, you fixed it. She’ll be fine if we just help her.”

“Tori it’s not that sim-” Anette’s statement is cut short with a series of coughs and Tori telling her to ‘take it easy’.

“Rylee,” Tori says to me. “Can you go to the kitchen and get Mom a glass of water?”

“Hold your horses, I’m fine,” Anette scowls at her. “Now Rylee, tomorrow while Tori is at work, you and I are going to go on a very special trip-”

“It’s the mall, Mom,” Tori interrupts. Anette shoots her a particularly nasty side eye.

“We’ll get you a few outfits and then hop over to the food court,” Anette tells me. “When was the last time you had a hamburger?”

---

“I think Anette tried to get rid of me today,” I tell Fiona who takes a quick drag on her joint before pulling it from her mouth and shaking it at the grass in front of her. 

We’re in the backyard, or more specifically on the bench pressed up against the side of the house. Fiona came out here to smoke and to my delight she asked if I wanted to come along. So we’d escaped the living room with Tori shouting ‘Don’t be giving her weed!’ as Fiona slid the door shut behind us. 

“Why do you think that?” Fiona asks; I mentally brace myself but she doesn’t seem angry about the statement. Huh. Okay.

“She told Tori I’m more trouble than I’m worth,” it’s paraphrased but shit, it’s close enough.

“No she didn’t,” Fiona swats away my accusation with complete disinterest. “She probably just said you’d be hard to take care of and…you are.”

“Thanks,” I mumble.

“Let’s see. Autistic, transexual, penchant for breaking into houses…” Fiona counts off each item on her fingers and then turns to me, a smile playing at her lips. “You think that’s easy?”

“I didn’t make her do it,” I grumble. Fiona takes another drag and then lowers her hand, hanging the lit joint over her knee before she clicks her tongue and looks at me.

“You ever gonna let that go?” She asks me. 

“She put a gun to my head,” I say, putting an upward inflection one each individual word. “It was scary okay?”

“Whatever, whatever,” Fiona snickers. “I brought you out here to talk about the other thing anyway. The uh…transexual stuff. How are you holding up?”

“She hasn’t figured it out, right?” I ask Fiona, practically willing it to be true with my words. Fiona chuckles.

“No, and not what I’m talking about,” she turns to look at me, tilting her head and leaning towards me just slightly. “How do you feel? Besides fucking terrified because we’ve already been over that. You’re in a house full of women being treated like one. Is it stressful?”

“Um, a little,” I admit. “Like…I’m worried she’s going to figure it out and…I mean, there’s so many things…I don’t know how to…”

“Your voice, for one,” Fiona points out. “I’ve noticed it cracking. Probably because you’ve never had to talk this much. It sucks, having someone actually care about you.”

There’s no sarcasm in that last statement, prompting me to look over at her, wondering exactly what she means, but the moment passes and she takes another drag. Around us the night is alive with the sound of crickets and the silent yellow flashes of fireflies. I’ve always liked this time of night, but even sitting out here with someone who knows my secret, I can’t enjoy it. There’s just…too much going on. Too much risk, too much uncertainty. Too much-

“I’ll tell you what’s happening,” Fiona says. “You care about Tori and that’s dangerous for you. You care about what she thinks and how she’s going to react, even if you know deep down that it’s not going to make that much of a difference.”

“That’s not true,” I argue as if I’m pushing back against an unmovable obstacle.

“It is,” Fiona nods. “That’s something I like about you. You know it’s not all about you, even if you don’t want to admit it. I know you didn’t want any of this, but it’s happening and you’re going to have to rough it out.”

“Rough it out…” I look across the backyard; we’re in a pretty rural area, I could probably just make a run for it and disappear into the tree line. Then again, they haven’t let me wear shoes and my feet are still pretty tender. Yeah. I’m not going anywhere. Plus I promised Anette…

“You wouldn’t make it far,” Fiona says, following my gaze. “Plus…don’t do that, Rylee. You’re just going to stress everyone out.”

“It’s not that easy,” I say, my jaw stiff. “I just…I know it’s safe here but my brain…it just wants me to run!”

“Except you won’t,” Fiona tells me. I look at her. “You promised Anette but that’s not nearly enough, is it? So let’s try this. Rylee, you’ll do whatever we tell you and you won’t try to run. Clear?”

I look at her, mouth agape at what she’s said. I’m not good at saying no and when it’s an absolute command like this, I don’t really stand a chance. Numbly, I nod and she smiles her approval.

“Good girl,” she squeezes my shoulder and I cringe, pulling away. “Now, I’ve got some rules of my own. Today I’m just going to give you one: Don’t ever go anywhere alone. Knowing how your parents are, you didn’t get to do this girl thing until you left home so I know you’re pretty new at it, and that means…you need help. And, Rylee, you didn’t learn girl shit hanging around in crack houses so let’s get that out of your head right now.”

“Well they treated me like a girl,” I mutter. Fiona raises an eyebrow and then violently shakes her head.

“Rylee, it’s your trauma and you’re allowed to joke about it but don’t ever believe those people taught you anything about being a woman. Being abused and coerced, that’s not being a woman. I don’t care what they told you. Listen to what we tell you.”

“Okay, okay,” I nod quickly. “Sorry for…no I mean…” As I speak and stumble over my attempts to apologize, she watches me intently, her expression unchanging. Finally, as soon as I’m done verbally storming, she speaks up again.

“So, never alone, Rylee,” she tells me “Girls always go to the bathroom together and it’s for a reason. Always be in a group and for you that means Tori, Anette or me. All three if possible but that doesn’t always work out.”

“But only to the bathroom,” I interject, bringing out a look of extreme annoyance from Fiona.

“No, Rylee,” her tone and expression are far more serious than I’m used to. “You’re in this for the long haul, don’t make it harder than it has to be. Never alone, got it?”

“Got it,” I whisper.

---

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