She’d laid there for what seemed like hours, but probably wasn’t. Rylee was stiff as a statue, trying to will herself to disappear as sunlight replaced the eerie glow of the moon and pressed warmly against her cheek. At the back of her head, a dull throb nagged at her, letting her know that she’d laid idle for too long.

Tori’s mattress was comfortable, far more comfortable than anything she’d slept on in the last few months, and her bruised, tired body protested each time she tried to work up the motivation to stand. Finally she managed to pull herself free of the sheets and nearly stumbled across the bedroom floor before steadying herself on a chair that had been positioned near the bed. She ran her hands over the metal backing and eventually her eyes came to rest on a pile of folded clothes that had been laid out on the seat with the name ‘Rylie’ written in Tori’s handwriting on a slip of paper. Rylee set the paper aside and examined the clothes, holding a blue sun dress out in front of her.

She shrugged out of the clothes she’d liberated from Tori the previous day, taking occasional glances toward the bedroom door, expecting it to burst open at any moment. With the dress over her head, she grabbed a pair of black leggings from the chair and pulled them on. After a quick trip to the bathroom, she headed to the bedroom door and paused, standing perfectly still to listen. Maybe, just maybe Tori wasn’t out there. Rylee considered that scenario: could she simply walk through the front door and make a run for the street?

“Okay,” Rylee said aloud, scolding herself. “there’s a window right there, just open it up and go.”

Why didn’t she just go through the window? As she stood there in front of the door, she wished that she could come up with an answer. Instead, she placed her hand on the brass knob and opened in a crack. Finding the coast clear, she stepped into the hallway, past a laundry room, a second bathroom, and another closed door on the right. The living room was brightly lit by the overhead bulbs, and golden dawn half-light streamed in through the glass patio doors.

“Hi, Rylee,” an unfamiliar voice said, causing Rylee to freeze like a deer in headlights. A woman perhaps five years younger than Tori stepped around the kitchen island and into view. She was about Rylee’s height, with dirty-blonde hair that hung in a high ponytail and extended to nearly the center of her waist. She was dressed casually, unlike Rylee, in a form-fitting t-shirt and a pair of black slacks. Standing with her hands on her hips, she shot a quick smile to Rylee before moving toward her. “I’m Fiona, you can call me Fi– oh, I’m Tori’s friend.”

“Where’s…Tori?” Rylee asked apprehensively, taking a step back. Fiona responded by taking a step forward and wrapping an arm around Rylee’s shoulders, moving her toward the dining room before she could retreat to the safety of the bedroom. She squirmed a bit at first, but eventually allowed Fiona to lead her across the living room and deposit her in a dining room chair just beneath a mini-chandelier that heavily illuminated the glass dining room table.

“She ordered breakfast, had to go pick it up,” Fiona shrugged. “She wanted me to make sure you didn’t run off just because she wasn’t here. You’re getting bacon and eggs, by the way.”

“Oh…” Rylee’s stomach growled as she suddenly realized that she was hungry. How long had it been since she’d eaten? She sat there, trying to count the days as Fiona studied her from across the table. “Thanks…”

“You look starved,” Fiona commented, folding her hands on the table and eyeing Rylee’s clearly emaciated form. “that dress is hanging off of you.”

“Um…” Rylee tried to think of something to say, but Fiona pointed a slender finger toward a glass of orange juice sitting on the table to the right of where Rylee was seated. Rylee pursed her lips and then took the glass in both hands, raised it to her lips and took a long swallow. Three gulps later, the glass was half empty and Fiona nodded.

“So, what’s this?” Fionna held up Rylee’s pill bottle with the word ‘Premarin’ on the side, next to the name ‘Hayley’. She held the bottle between two fingers and gave it a shake, rattling the three remaining capsules around inside the tube.

“It’s…birth control,” Rylee delivered a practiced line “Can’t be too careful.”

“You have a lot of sex?” Fiona’s expression remained stoic, she gave nothing away. Rylee gulped.

“No…I mean…just in case,” Rylee nodded. Fiona turned the bottle over in her hand, peering past the white label and at the pills within.

“I’m in school for my LPN,” Fiona said, making eye contact with Rylee as she finished the sentence. “I know a bit about prescriptions. I know a lot about this one, but you know what I’m about to say, don’t you?”

Rylee sat in silence, her body rigid, unsure of what Fiona was actually about to say, even though she had her suspicions. If her experience over the last year had taught her anything, it was that she needed an escape plan, and she tried her best to conceal the fact that her mind was now preoccupied with thoughts of the sliding patio door. Was it locked? How fast could she get it open? Could she even outrun Fiona? Would Fiona try to chase her?

“It’s not birth control,” Fiona set the pill bottle down and locked eyes with Rylee. “There’s only one reason a girl your age would be taking this.”

“I…should go,” Rylee gulped, placing her hands on the arms of her chair. “I need to–”

“Tori asked me to keep you here,” Fiona said in a matter-of-fact tone. “She’s worried about you.”

“She just met me,” Rylee said, her voice cracking as she shifted in her chair, hands still affixed to the armrests. “She shouldn’t–”

“I’m going to stop you there,” Fiona said curtly. “You’re not in a position to decide what she should and shouldn’t do. She sees a kid in trouble, she wants to help. You broke into her house, you owe her for not calling the police, or killing you. So, you’re going to humor her, you’re going to let her do whatever she wants, or I guess you can bounce from house to house for the next few years until someone eventually just kills you. Shit, you’ll be lucky if someone doesn’t sell you into human trafficking. But I think we can help each other.”

“Help each other?”

“First of all,” Fiona said. “put your hands on your lap, or on the table, or something. Stop acting like you’re about to bolt. Now, imagine having your own Premarin prescription, and an actual T-blocker so the stuff actually works. You look like you have a question, you want to go ahead and ask it?”

Rylee was slumped over in the chair, her right hand pressing against her temple as she used her left to support her weight against the chair as she leaned slightly. Her face was beet red, and her jaw clenched;the world fell to pieces around her. This woman, Fiona knew. She knew a secret that Rylee had managed to keep for years from the people closest to her, and for more years as she fled her family’s home and took to the road. This Fiona had figured it out in a matter of minutes. Rylee, in that moment, realized that she’d far overestimated her own intelligence, but that wasn’t even the worst of it.

“Rylee. No one has to know. I’m Tori’s friend, and I need you to understand that right now she needs you. I don’t know a whole lot about transsexuals, but I do know that if you don’t get your hormones under control, you’re going to come out looking like--”

“Transgender,” Rylee said, her voice almost a whisper.

“What’s the difference?”

Rylee shrugged.

“Whatever. I’m not going to tell Tori, and I’ll help you with your…stuff, but you’ve got to let her help you in her own way.”

It was a long time before Rylee felt she could reply; she sat there, hunched over, staring at her feet through the glass surface. Any and all control that she’d had, that she’d thought she had over the situation, had evaporated and her greatest secret was laid bare. As she raised her reddened, sore eyes from the table to meet Fiona’s, she shuddered and longed to cover herself, to run, to hide, to burrow beneath the blankets in Tori’s bed; to disappear forever. She’d only met this Fiona person a few moments ago and already she knew more about her than any other living person.

“She’s on her way home,” Fiona checked a notification on her phone before flipping it shut. “Wipe your eyes, stop acting like a little shit. Simple stuff.”

“It’s not fair,” Rylee said at nearly a whisper. “I just…I just needed a shower and some food and—”

“Okay, this topic?” Fiona gestured rapidly with flat palm, waving it side to side. “It’s over. Here you are, here you stay. If you don’t like it, then don’t break into people’s houses. Wipe your eyes.”

Rylee managed to wipe her eyes on a tissue supplied by Fiona just as Tori walked through the front door, takeout bags in hand.

“Sorry, sorry,” Tori’s voice resonated through the brief entryway as she crossed the threshold. “They were out of blueberry pancakes, is strawberry okay?”

“Aww, traitor!” Fiona laughed.

“Blame them, not me! I’m the one who drove all the way there at eight in the morning and waited!”

“Well, I guess I can forgive you this once.” Fiona wagged her finger and shot Tori a goofy grin. “What do you think, Rylee?”

Rylee stared across the table at Fiona, her mouth slightly parted and her face burning red with the humiliation of the previous moments still fresh in her mind. Still, Fiona’s entire demeanor seemed to have changed in a split second, leaving Rylee with whiplash as Tori set a plastic to-go container and fork in front of her.

“Eggs and bacon,” Tori said, explaining the meal beneath a layer of transparent plastic. “Oh, biscuits and gravy too. I didn’t know what you liked so I just got what everyone likes.”

“What’s your plan today, anyway?” Fiona shot a look at Tori, who was opening her own to-go container at the other side of the round table. Tori tapped her plastic fork against the to-go container and then took a quick drink of coffee from a Styrofoam cup with ‘Bob Evans’ printed on the side. Setting it down on the table, she pursed her lips and then looked from Fiona, to Rylee, and then back to Fiona.

“You’re working this afternoon, right?”

“Mid-shift,” Fiona confirmed. “Then school after, but I have like an hour or two.”

“So, the guest room,” Tori said before reaching over to Rylee, opening her to-go container, and handing her the fork with a gesture toward the eggs. “We can re-arrange some of the stuff in there, and then we could lay the camping bed down so Rylee can sort of have a room.”

“This is stupid,” Rylee said suddenly, her eyes going wide as soon as the words left her mouth. Too late, Tori and Fiona focused their attention on her. “I mean…I…broke into your house and you’re giving me a room?”

“Positivity, Rylee,” Tori said in what Rylee could only interpret as a lecturing tone. “You broke in because you were hungry. Who wouldn’t do that? I’m not above it, Fiona’s not above it. Besides, we know you don’t mean any harm.”

“I did a background check, obviously,” Fiona reached into her pants pocket and handed Rylee a piece of rectangular plastic, and she paled at the sight of it. Her state-issued ID; she’d gotten it when she was sixteen. An unfamiliar name screamed at her from the plastic, just above the ‘Michigan’ state logo. She looked to Fiona, questioningly, and she returned the look with a very subtle shake of her head. No, she hadn’t told Tori; no, she hadn’t told anyone else. Yes, it could stay between them as long as she followed the rules. “She’s eighteen, like she says, ran away from home two years ago; there’s a missing person’s report out, but we can just go to the police station. Your life is a mess, Rylee.”

“Let’s try to be positive,” Tori suggested. “Rylee, eat your eggs.”

Reluctantly at first, Rylee turned her attention to the plate of eggs and the plastic fork clutched in her hand. She immediately stabbed, piercing the yolk and watching as yellow liquid seeped across the plate. Almost immediately, she snatched the egg up on the fork and stuffed it into her mouth, emitting noises that neither Tori or Fiona could identify as fully human.

“Slow down?” Fiona suggested, raising an eyebrow as Rylee moved on the biscuits and gravy. “Rylee.”

Rylee continued to shovel food into her mouth, moving on to the bacon until finally, she began to choke. Tori stepped behind her, snatching the fork from her hand and smacking an open palm against her back. She slapped again and again in rapid succession until Rylee choked up a piece of bacon and wheezed, doubling over as Tori caught her. She lowered Rylee to the floor and continued to rub her back.

“There’s enough food here, Rylee,” Tori said. “You don’t have to do that.”

“She okay?” Fiona asked, standing back and observing the situation.

“She’ll be fine.”

Tori shot a leg out across the carpet and used it to maneuver herself in front of Rylee who had bowed her head and was now sobbing silently. Tori rested a hand on the side of her head, causing Rylee to pause.

“You okay?”

“I’m sorry,” Rylee began to pull away, only to topple over onto her right side. Tori quickly rose into a crouching position, taking Rylee by both hands and helping her to her feet. She looked into her eyes and offered a brief smile before helping her over to the couch and sitting next to her. “I’m so sorry,” she repeated, squeezing Tori’s hand and then watching her intently, as if she were about to scream, or offer some sort of long-winded lecture. The apprehension in her eyes was nearly palpable.

“You don’t have to apologize for choking, Rylee,” Tori said, giving her hands another squeeze.

“You’re not mad?”

“No, Rylee. I’m worried. There’s a big difference, okay?”

“Okay,” Rylee nodded.

“I hate to break this up, but I have work in a few hours,” Fiona reminded them. “You wanna go get that room done?”

“As close as we can get it.” Tori stood from the couch and stretched before offering Rylee a hand. They traversed the hallway until they reached the door across from the laundry room, which Tori opened quietly and slipped through first. “Oh, it’s not so bad in here.”

“Come on Tori,” Fiona rolled her eyes. “It looks like Goodwill barfed on your floor.”

“I’ll have you know…” Tori launched into a tirade about her collection of name brand items and how none of them could be found in a thrift store. Fiona rolled her eyes and tuned out the rant, instead choosing to focus her attention on Rylee, who had shrunk back into the corner of the room, pressing her back against a stack of cardboard boxes. She had her arms wrapped tightly around her body, her eyes downcast. Fiona bit her lower lip and glanced to Tori, who was blissfully unaware of the situation.

“Rylee.” Fiona gestured to her. She looked up, arms still folded, her eyes uncertain. “The camping bed is over there, behind that stack, do you see it? Try to pull it out of there.”

Stiffly, almost robotically, Rylee made her way past Fionna and obediently began to pull on the aluminum tubing of the cot, trying to pull it free from the boxes that were stacked in front of it. Fiona and Tori immediately shot looks at each other, with Tori stepping forward to place a hand on Rylee’s shoulder.

“Hey–” Tori had intended to tell her to move some of the plastic totes and cardboard boxes first, but was cut off as Rylee turned and stumbled backward, throwing an arm in front of her face and dropping against the stack of boxes. She whimpered, drawing her knees up to her chest as her breathing increased and her head ducked.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I’m sorry–”

“Rylee, no, what are you sorry for?” Tori crouched down next to her, taking her hand and peeling it away from her face. She nearly recoiled when she saw the tears streaming down Rylee’s cheeks, her skin red and her lower lip trembling.

“I didn’t mean to do it wrong,” Rylee said quickly, pushing her back against the boxes and drawing her knees closer to her body.

“No, no, Rylee,” Tori insisted. “You didn’t do anything wrong, okay? Rylee, look at me, okay? Just look at me.” Rylee slowly turned her head, her tear-stained eyes meeting Tori’s, greeted by a broad smile as Tori took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’m not mad, sweetheart. There are some things you won’t know how to do, and I’ll help you, but I’ll never get mad at you over something stupid like this and no one here is going to hurt you. Okay?”

“Okay,” Rylee whispered. Tori offered her a comforting smile and gently brought a hand to her cheek to wipe the tears.

Tori helped Rylee to her feet while Fiona looked on, and they set about clearing a space in the room. Fiona commented more than a few times that Tori should just rent a dumpster and purge the place, to which Tori always curled up her nose and shook her head. Throughout all of it, Tori kept a close eye on Rylee, trying to get a feel for her moods, her behaviors, and even the subtle movements that she exhibited. The last hour had been very telling; the way that Rylee had reacted to a simple touch and redirection told the story of a girl who had not only been hurt, but hurt intentionally. A fear and distrust of people had been ingrained within her, and Tori couldn’t help but wonder if it was even possible to help her unlearn it.

“I think this is enough,” Fiona said, gesturing to the space on the floor. Tori nodded and grabbed the camping cot, moving it into place with Fiona’s help. Together they unfolded it and locked it into place, with Tori sighing as they looked at it. It was maybe five inches off the carpet, the ‘sleeping area’ being just a piece of black canvas affixed to the frame.

“I’ll…have to get some sheets for this,” Tori said, shaking her head. “And a pillow. I’m sorry it’s so…so this, Rylee.”

Fiona and Tori both glanced at Rylee, who stood between them, her hands clasped together as she fidgeted nervously, rocking from side to side. Tori laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder, prompting her to look over with wide, questioning eyes.

“I…I can sleep here?” Rylee asked, not daring to look down at the cot. Tori nodded.

“Yeah, it’s temporary,” Tori assured her. “We’ll clear it out and–”

“You’ll never clear it out,” Fiona chided. “You’ve been here for two years and you still can’t let go.”

“Would you chill the fuck out?” Tori snapped. “A lot of this stuff is important.”

“It’s called downsizing, you silly bitch.” Fiona rolled her eyes. “You got rid of the guy, you got rid of the big house, you need to get rid of the stuff that went in to the big house. Look at that end table over there, you ever going to use it?”

“Might,” Tori said defiantly. “You okay, Rylee?”

“Tori?” Rylee asked, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

“Yeah, sweetie?”

“How long can I stay here?”

“Rylee,” Tori smirked, wrapping an arm around her. “You’re not leaving.”

“I don’t eat out every day, and definitely not twice a day,” Tori said with a distracted tone as she crossed from the living room into the kitchen. They’d spent a few more hours working in the room, with Tori becoming more frustrated by the minute as she realized she was simply relocating things rather than tossing them. Finally, as the clock read 4 PM, she’d decided it was about time to eat again. Rylee trailed along behind her, unsure of where to stand as Tori jetted between the sink and the counter, setting up a cutting board, washing a bowl, pulling a pair of knives from a butcher block. “Okay, um, there’s some chicken in the fridge, can you pull it out for me?” Tori gestured to the refrigerator before returning her attention to a spice rack set against the backsplash.

Rylee walked nervously toward the fridge, opening it with shaking hands as she removed what she thought to be a package of chicken, then returned to Tori who was reading the instructions on the back of a boxed meal. She glanced at the package that Rylee had set on the counter and frowned. She opened her mouth to speak, then thought better of it, instead taking a moment to choose her words carefully.

“I think it’d take too long to thaw that,” she said, looking at the chicken that Rylee had clearly pulled from the freezer. “Let’s use the stuff in the fridge instead, okay?”

“Okay.” Rylee smiled as she took the package back to the freezer. “Sorry if I got it wrong.”

“Not a big deal,” Tori said in as upbeat a voice as she could manage.

“I know,” Rylee said. “But…um…thank you for not yelling.”

“Rylee, no one should yell at you for making a mistake, especially one that small,” Tori said. “Look, I don’t know a whole lot about you. Fiona did the background check, obviously, but until you want to share it with me, I’m not going to look. There are some things that I don’t need a background check to know, though.”

Rylee froze as Tori opened the package of thawed chicken and deposited it onto a plastic cutting board. She selected one of the knives she’d pulled from the butcher block and began to cut the chicken breast longways, then changed direction, dicing them and adding seasoning.

“I know you’ve been hurt, Rylee. I’m not talking about whatever happened to you when you were out there on the road, though I’m sure that was bad too. What I’m talking about is way deeper. Someone hurt you, intentionally I think, and you’re still hurting right now, even if you can’t feel it. I can’t help you, not a whole lot, but I can help you find people that can help, and in the meantime I’ll teach you some of the basics.”

“The…basics?”

“Cooking, cleaning, writing a check, making phone calls, whatever you need help with. After we eat, we’ll go back to the…your room and look through the boxes and find some of my old clothes for you to wear. Okay?”

“Why?" Rylee suddenly asked, prompting Tori to stop seasoning and look at her.

“Put the chicken in that pan. What do you mean why?”

“People hurt me because…because I was just bad. I can’t do anything right. I couldn’t even get you the right chicken. Why would you want someone around that can’t do things right?”

“Rylee-–” Tori started to speak, and then caught a glimpse of Rylee’s wrists beneath the under-cabinet LED light strip. Two circular scars, running around each of her wrists, perfectly symmetrical, each one a dull red. Self harm? No, the scars ran all the way around her wrists. Handcuffs, Tori though to herself. Someone fucking handcuffed her tight enough to leave scars. “Who cares if you have trouble doing things that no one ever taught you to do? Rylee, whoever told you–…whoever made you think that you weren’t worth it can go to hell. I don’t know you that well, but I’m not going to let–…I’m not going to let this happen again. Not to you too. Turn the stove on, I’m going to show you how to make chicken helper.”

With Tori’s guidance, Rylee successfully operated the stove and watched quietly as the juices began to boil and the meat began to brown. Tori mentioned that she liked to add vegetables to the mix, and sprinkled some diced tomatoes along with carrots and corn. They stood there in silence for a moment, watching the boxed meal go from a mish mash of hardened pasta and raw meat, to an actual dinner as Rylee watched in what Tori could only describe as awe. In the silence, Tori reached over and gently took Rylee’s left wrist in her hand, running her fingers along the circular scars. Rylee shuddered, resisting the urge to pull back as she looked to Tori, eyes wide, her heart racing. Tori looked to the scar, then looked to Rylee, meeting her eyes and pursing her lips as for a brief moment, they seemed to connect on an emotional level, breaking through Rylee’s carefully crafted defense mechanisms. Wordlessly, Tori communicated what needed to be said: I know someone hurt you, and I’m sorry. And then, she said something far more important.

“You’re safe, Rylee. I don’t know what happened before, but with me, you’re safe.”