“Come on,” Rylee said to her hair, which paid no mind to her, as she ran a brush down the right side of her head. Ever since she’d started presenting herself as a woman, she’d found that hair was the biggest battle; the way it framed her face was essential for maintaining the illusion, and today it just wasn’t falling right. A tuft of bright blonde contrasted the black and blue bruise that stretched from her eye to the middle of her left cheek, tapering off as it reached the jawbone; on her left arm, another bruise ran down her forearm, and the nerve endings responded to the touch of her fingertips as she pressed here and there. She studied her face in the mirror as the hair finally fell the right way; to her eyes she didn’t look like a girl, not even close, but she’d learned to accept that others saw her differently. Somehow, with her long hair, the months on hormones, and her tiny form, she managed to pass for female and apparently it was passing muster up close and personal with Tori.

She finally accepted her appearance, imperfect as it was, and took a deep breath, studying herself in the mirror. Her blonde hair hung about her shoulders, framing her face appropriately, and she was dressed in one of Tori’s old tops -- a pale pink t-shirt with a thick hem on the collar and sleeves. The top should have been form-fitting, but she still had a bit of room in it, as well as with the blue jeans. She nodded, trying to reassure herself, and then stepped out of the bathroom, into the empty hallway.

“Good morning, Rylee,” Tori said as she crossed the living room toward the kitchen. She half-turned and gave Rylee a smile before she crossed the threshold into the kitchen.

“Hi,” Rylee said with a shaky, uncertain voice. She walked barefoot across the carpet, keeping close to the wall and standing a good distance away from the kitchen with her arms crossed tight across her chest. Tori pulled a glass bowl from an overhead cabinet and cracked four eggs along the rim.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” Rylee choked a little, biting her lip and nodding to Tori before falling silent again.

“Because you look like you’re about to piss yourself , and those are my jeans.”

“Sorry,” Rylee croaked, shifting uncomfortably. “I can take them off if–”

“Come over here,” Tori gestured to her, and then gestured to the mixing bowl on the counter. “Take the whisk and start beating the eggs.”

Rylee stepped up to the counter and Tori gently laid her hand over Rylee’s, mimicking the stirring motions and explaining that she should continue stirring until the yolk had overtaken the egg whites.

“Now watch,” Tori said. “I’m going to add a pinch of salt for flavor, you keep stirring. Did your mom ever cook with you?”

Rylee shook her head. Tori added the salt and then covertly glanced at Rylee, trying to judge her facial expressions. She was still trying to wrap her head around why she had done this. It seemed so stupid! The girl had broken into her house, and Tori should have called the police. She should have let the professionals handle it, but instead she’d taken it upon herself to hold Rylee here, to take care of her. God, why? Didn’t she have enough on her plate already? These thoughts tore through her, nagged at her, urged her to change her mind and turn the girl out, but as she watched her stir the eggs, she could swear she saw something familiar in her face, something beneath the mounting fear and apprehension. Rylee reminded her of someone.

“Okay, now that it’s mixed, what we’re going to do is pour it into this pan, and now with the heat on, stir it with this spatula.”

She stood back, crossing her arms to watch Rylee stir the egg mixture, stepping in only to add a splash of milk. The mixture heated, finally beginning to turn, and Rylee’s eyes lit up as she realized what was happening. For the first time, Tori saw her smile, a grin breaking out on her face as Tori stepped in and turned the heat down.

“You did it,” Tori smiled. “I’ll heat up some sausage too.”

“That’s so cool!”

“Yeah, it is,” Tori said as she grabbed a package of sausage from the refrigerator.

“I didn’t know you could just…do that.”

“Your mom really didn’t cook with you, huh?” Tori leaned against the counter, studying Rylee whose grin faded and eyes began to unfocus as if she were remembering something. Finally, she shook her head again.

“They didn’t really show me things.”

“Why not?” Tori rolled the sausage around in a pan, listening to it sizzle as she watched Rylee.

“I’m not very smart,” Rylee said. Tori flinched at the way she’d said it: matter of factly, as if it were an undisputed facet of her reality. She believed it, she really believed it. “I was always in these special classes, away from the other kids. They said I probably wouldn’t be able to live on my own, so I shouldn’t learn to cook. I do things wrong a lot so they were afraid I would burn the house down.”

“What do you mean, you do things wrong?”

“I just forget things,” Rylee shrugged.

Tori clenched her jaw and did her best to keep her facial expression at least somewhat neutral.

“Well, Rylee, you just made scrambled eggs and you didn’t burn the house down. How does it feel?” Tori forced a smile and plated the food. Carrying both plates to the table, she beckoned for Rylee to sit.

“I guess…it feels good,” Rylee admitted. Her tone was filled with uncertainty as she stared at the plate.

“You’re damn right it feels good.” Tori reached across the table, placing a hand on top of Rylee’s. Rylee looked up in surprise as she felt Tori’s touch, almost wanting to pull away, but unable to as her body seemed stiff and frozen. “You made those eggs your bitch, Rylee. You’re just as capable as anyone else, and I can show you lots of other things. Will you let me help you?”

Rylee thought for a long moment, processing Tori’s words along with years of insecurities drilled into her with unkind words and negative affirmations. She let out a breath and then stiffened as her thoughts arrived at the same conclusion that she always did, the one that she’d been told to reach.

“I’m not very smart,” Rylee said quietly, dropping her eyes to the plate in front of her. She focused on a piece of sausage. Tori idly ran her index finger across the curved edge of the table as she kept an eye on Rylee, trying to figure out exactly what to say. Finally, she stabbed a piece of sausage and slid it into her mouth, chewing lightly as Rylee, as always, simply stared at her food.

“I don’t like that someone told you that,” Tori said finally, swallowing the sausage and using her fork to swirl the scrambled eggs around on the plate. “It’s not true.”

“It must be,” Rylee shrugged. “I’m not very good at anything.”

“Did your parents tell you that?”

Rylee shrugged.

“I’d like to see your parents survive two years on the streets.” Tori took another bite and then dropped the fork to the plate. “Finish your food, eat it all.”

Once the food was eaten, Tori cleared the table and set the dishes in the sink. Rylee immediately began to draw water and searched the counter for a scrub brush.

“What are you doing?” Tori looked at her quizzically. Rylee froze in place, her mouth attempting to form words as her body stiffened. “You don’t have to do the dishes, Rylee.”

“Sorry,” Rylee whispered.

“Jesus Christ,” Tori shook her head. “What did they do to you?” She took the brush from Rylee’s hand and turned her away from the sink; Rylee shrank away from her touch but allowed her to bring her back to the living room.

“Are you mad at me?” Rylee asked suddenly, looking away from Tori. “I told you I do everything wrong, I–”

“I’m clearly in over my head here,” Tori muttered. “Okay no, Rylee, I’m not mad at you; look at me, look at me. You and I are fine, I just don’t want you doing chores all the time.”

“I should leave,” Rylee said suddenly.

“Excuse me?” Tori raised an eyebrow. “I thought we were past this.”

“All I do is upset you,” Rylee said. “I do that to everyone. You’d be better off–”

“Rylee, shut up,” Tori said, as evenly as possible through gritted teeth. “Do not tell me how I’d be better off – sit down!” Tori paused as Rylee dropped onto the couch, suddenly shaking. “Look, I don’t like being mean to you, but it’s like you’re trying to get me to kick you out. Do you want me to just give up on you? What do you want me to do? Pack you a lunch and tell you to leave? Fuck you, Rylee. Fuck you!”

“You’re going to hate me. I think you already hate me,” Rylee spoke softly, but her voice began to break as tears streamed down her cheeks. “Why do you even want me here? I can’t do anything for you!”

“I want you here because I want you here, now shut up and watch TV.” Tori snatched the remote from the coffee table and dropped it into Rylee’s lap. “I’ll be right back, don’t leave the couch.”

Tori resisted the urge to ball up her fists, and instead walked away from the couch, making a beeline for her bedroom, where her cellphone sat on the bedside table. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, she snatched the phone and flipped it open. She was greeted by the red and white ‘Verizon’ screen, and immediately began scrolling through her contacts. Finally, she found the one she wanted and paused only briefly before pressing ‘send’.

“I need your help.”

Tori exited her bedroom half an hour later to find Rylee laying on her side, her back pressed against the cushions and her legs drawn up to her chest as she stared blankly at the television. She hadn’t even turned it on.

“Hey, Rylee,” She said softly. At the sound of her voice, Rylee started and rose into a sitting position, her feet on the floor.

“I’m awake!” she said suddenly, her eyes wide. Tori paused and frowned, trying to make sense of what had just happened, but shrugged it off. Not everything meant something with this girl, right?

“Um…okay, well, we need to go out, to the store. Are you up for a shopping trip?”

“Shopping? Like, a store?” Rylee sank back into the couch again, her shoulders stiffening.

“That’s where people typically shop, yes. We need food, mostly, there’s two of us here now.”

“And there’ll be other people there?”

“Yes, Rylee, it’s a store.” Tori frowned. “Do you not like to be around other people?”

Rylee shrugged.

“Okay…” Tori frowned again, her forehead creasing as she moved toward the couch and sat down. “Like, a lot of people, or any people in general?”

“A lot,” Rylee said quietly. Tori nodded.

“Okay, Rylee, “ Tori said after a moment of silence. “If I leave you here, will you be okay?”

Rylee nodded, keeping her eyes on her feet. Tori sighed.

“Look I–” Tori began to speak, then paused, reaching over and taking Rylee’s hand within her own. “Rylee, are you okay here? I mean, I know you didn’t really want to be here yesterday, but if I leave, are you going to be here when I come back?”

Rylee didn’t answer, but instead continued to stare at her feet. Tori, using her free hand, cupped her palm beneath Rylee’s chin and gently turned her head until their eyes met. She didn’t react, didn’t even try to pull away. Instead she looked to Tori almost pleadingly, her eyes glazed over, as if she wanted to cry, scream, and implode all at once. There was so much this girl wanted to say, but so little of it was getting through. It was as if she didn’t know how to verbalize the words forming in her mind. A slight pang of guilt overtook Tori as she realized the only way to move forward.

“Rylee,” she said firmly. “I’m going to the store to get groceries. I’ll be back in an hour. Don’t leave the house, don’t answer the door for anyone. If you leave…well, you’ll get in trouble.”

“Okay,” Rylee nodded. Tori groaned inwardly and tried to keep her feelings from showing in her expression. Rylee wanted to be told what to do, it was somehow ingrained in her! As much as she’d fought Tori yesterday about staying here, she couldn’t walk out, even if she wanted to. Could Tori even hope to fix that? She patted Rylee on the shoulder and stood up.

“Good girl,” she said quietly as she took her purse from the end table and walked toward the door. After a single glance back, she exited through the front door, closing it behind her.

Rylee sat there on the couch for several minutes, staring at a blank television screen and then, finally, stood, her head swiveling around at the empty house. She was alone for the first time in at least forty-eight hours, since Tori had come home. Her first glance was to the sliding glass door and the backyard beyond.

Don’t leave the house, don’t answer the door for anyone.

The uncertainty had lifted, Tori’s mandate had made her feel secure for the first time in a very long time; it was like being wrapped in a warm fuzzy blanket, and she smiled slightly as she took a few steps. The living room was pretty bare bones, just a TV mounted to the wall and a couch, but there was a CD rack standing free next to the TV containing all sorts of albums. Rylee thumbed through them, finding everything from Ace of Base, to Evanescence, and Garth Brooks. She pulled the first album out, labeled ‘The Sign’, and stepped over to the wrap-around counter in front of the kitchen. There was a small red boombox plugged in, and Rylee removed an Avril Lavigne CD from the top-loading player before placing the Ace of Base disc in it. Moments later, the familiar opening to ‘All that She Wants’ began to play. She pushed the ‘forward’ button twice, and ‘Young and Proud’ began to play instead.

“Ugh,” she said, listening to the lyrics. “Why do they have to sound so good? It’s like Hootie and the Blowfish with Nazis.”

She stepped away, extending her arms and executing a twirl in time with the music, then skipped to the next room, the one that was supposed to be hers, but with Tori’s junk. She opened a cardboard box and found it full of old school supplies, including a colorful Lisa Frank Trapper Keeper.

“I always wanted one of these,” she said sadly before moving on to the next box. She opened a few more boxes, hoping to glean some kind of information about her captor.

Her captor.

Could she even call her that? Rylee shrugged off the thought and opened another box, this time finding a nylon bag stuffed inside. She pulled it out and let it unfold; it was a dress bag, maybe. Dropping it onto the floor, she unzipped it and confirmed that it was in fact a dress bag. The white dress inside had taken on a bit of a yellowish tint, but as she pulled it out, her heart began to leap; it was absolutely beautiful. Her heart pounded as she looked around, confirming that she was alone. Tori was going to be gone for an hour, right? Dropping the dress, she pulled her top over her head, placing it on the cot still sitting in the middle of the floor. Moments later, with the pants off as well, she pulled the dress over her head, the short-sleeved bodice resting loosely against her chest and the skirt falling heavily about her feet. Digging in the box again, she found the matching veil and affixed it to her head. Out in the living room, the CD moved forward a track, playing ‘The Sign,’ the album’s title song. She giggled to herself and began to sing along to the track as she stepped out of the room and bounced down the hall.

This was stupid, so incredibly stupid, but she’d wanted to try on a wedding dress for as long as she could remember, and it was everything she thought it would be, other than the bodice barely managing to cling to her shoulders. She grabbed the left sleeve and pulled it back into place, as she continued to sing off-key to the music. In the living room with more space, she began to sing louder, closing her eyes and trying her best to pull off some dance moves with the heavy gown impeding her legs. She continued to giggle as she felt the material brush against her legs and tried to imagine what it might be like to walk down the aisle in one of these. With her eyes closed, she did a quick twirl and began to sing louder, and louder, laughing with a euphoria she hadn’t felt in ages. Why was she so happy? She didn’t have anything to be happy about. But here, in this strange woman’s house, in this wedding dress, she felt strangely free. She smiled softly, and opened her eyes; her heart dropped into her stomach as she saw Tori standing at the entrance to the kitchen, leaning against the wall with an amused look on her face. Beside her, there was another woman, thin with jet black hair, dressed in a simple grey fleece sweater and black slacks.

“Rylee,” Tori said, suppressing a laugh. “I’d like you to meet my mother, Anette.”