The summer started off quietly for me. I was no longer walking the streets, turning tricks. Believe me this way of life is far different from that on the streets. Here, I was safe from the dangers that are inherent in that life.

I knew what needed to be done for any possibility of a future. Future, my definition was at that time unknown and unobtainable. I now realize years later. It was very much obtainable. It took me unlearning many of my lessons that I learned, growing up to accept that reality.

My reunion with Jenn was pleasant and at the same time strained. You see, she never pressed me nor questioned me on my motives for leaving. She accepted the fact that I needed to learn as best I could. She quietly observed my every action. I personally was emotionally and physically drained. My journey was done, or at least part of it was. Where do I go from here? [What did I want to do? Did I want to walk these streets? Did I want to attend college?]

That question I asked myself a few weeks after I stepped off the bus. Personally, I had a few options opened to me. One; continue my road of self destruction. Two; try and make a life for myself. Three; go to school. Each of these options possessed a number of additional questions and no answers. I decided to break my silence to Jenn one night after she came home from work.

Me: "Jenn, I am stuck between a rock and a hard place as to where I want to take my future, my existence. I need your advice."

Jenn: "Well, what do you want to do? And how do you see yourself now?"

Me: "I am not really sure, I could continue at present, or maybe attempt something new."

Jenn: "What is the definition of new for you? Do you want to go to school? Look for work? You cannot work in the short skirts that like
you wear. If you want, I can help you. But, from what I know, it will be hard for you."

Me: "I know, I have no idea, no training, I have street smarts, life in general I have to relearn. I am an Adult."

At 17, I was more mature than most adults were and definitely more adept at life and it's many struggles. I grew up when I left at 15. Yet, I never fully recovered from that when I returned, after the mess I encountered out west, and who could blame me? All that I know is that I was lost, I felt hopeless. HELL, I was HOPELESS. I felt ashamed of what I had done. I learned years later that abuse begets even more abuse. I only wish that I knew then, what I know now, almost 30 years after the fact. I guess it is true what they say, hindsight is 20/20.

****

Days passed, nights endured. Most were sleepless. The nightmare of that brutal attack west haunted my nightmares and my thoughts. It was later told to me I had PTSD. Wow, way too much information to digest and attempt to understand. What I wanted was an end to my nightmare, NOT a diagnosis. The difference was I was the one being shot at close range, execution style. I would always wake up in a sweat, or crying or both.

I think I must have scared the hell out of Jenn at times with my nightmares. I am not sure, but I think that I woke her up with my screaming, yet she never complained. She always looked frightened when she saw me the mornings after my nightmares. Could my nightmares have triggered a nightmare for her?

Jenn never said anything directly to me. After all, there was nothing to be said. Yet, I knew that I needed assistance from someone, but I had no clue that I needed to talk to. And the nightmares haunt me, still. My only hope is that one day I shall be with my Friend and Savior, Jesus Christ.

****

Nearly 2 months after arriving, I began to see some light for me. I went to get a doctor and had a complete physical. I was disease free. Whew! THAT was a relief. I was elated. For all of my time as a prostitute, I at least would not suffer from some infection from my sex with men. I even found that my anus was healing up from being penetrated so often. There were times that I had to sit on the toilet and let my clients ejaculate dribble from my butt, then wipe and wear a pad or tampon to soak up any residue.

I picked up the local newspaper and started browsing. I had no relevant experience to work a so called normal job. Then I saw an advert for open house at the local high schools. YES! I would go back to school! I would get my diploma. I went and called the number to the one school closest to where Jenn and I lived. I received more information and the times to pop by and look and talk with the teacher representatives for the local school division and the principal. Did I see a small glimmer, yes I did. I saw a glimmer of hope, hope for a better tomorrow for me.

Later that evening, I asked Jenn if she would be able to accompany me to this high school on the given date which was August 12th at 7:P.M. She readily agreed to split shifts with someone at her work.

I thanked her with a kiss and hug. She blushed, and smiled at me. Here was a woman who had taken in a broken down, worthless vagabond, and with simple tender, loving care had let me change from the monster that I was into this new being, a being full of HOPE!

As the following weeks progressed I needed to obtain new clothes, so off to the shops to select clothes. Well, trust me when I say I had no idea what runners or sneakers were. I was ignorant to that fact. High school culture was going to be very different for me, to say the least. I chose a few new pairs of jeans and tops and decided to pass on the sneakers/runners. I was so used to heels. To be honest it would take many years for me to get accustomed
to sneakers/runners.

The night of the open house I dressed down from my regular skirts and tank tops and somewhat heavy make up. I placed my hair in a tight braid. My hair was down to my rear end at that time. My nails were immaculate as was my makeup. We only had 5 blocks to walk to the school. We decided to walk it since it was a night out.

When I first laid my eyes on this building, to me, it was huge and the butterflies were tying knots in my stomach. The School was built in the early 20th century and had been upgraded to a modern style. The total number of students taught was close to 600. I was so nervous and it showed. I was not used to such large crowds, and still not comfortable with crowds, today.

Upon entering this school, the first thing that I noticed was the: ornate chandeliers, lighting, the paintings, the columns of granite and marble. I was impressed. This school looked like a mansion, not a place of learning.

There were arrows directing us to this massive hall with seats. (To a country girl, like me, everything was huge). Anyhow, there was a dais on the stage where all the important people sat and would eventually speak. I will not bore you with all the proceedings. I will say this, though. I was enthusiastic at this new revelation.

Here I was, a freshman in high school, ready for new challenges. I had grown up on the streets, and learned how to survive. I now had an inner strength that I didn't have, before. Before, I was a weak, pathetic kid, good for nothing more than getting raped and abused. Now, thanks to my life on the road, and Jenn's Loving acceptance, I was ready to take on new challenges.

Come to think about it, maybe I did have a future, and maybe hope, too. Time would definitely tell over the next 4 years. Now, while it was true that I only had a grade eight education when I left home, I was smarter than I actually thought that I was. My former time in school seemed to be a lifetime ago, and I suppose that it was.

There were tables set up in the gym for class registration, am I ever glad that Jenn went with me. OH my, what a list of classes to sign up for. There were: Math’s’, Sciences, History, and Gym of course, Home Ec., Computers, Shop (Woodworking, Automotive, and Electronics etc). I talked to several teachers that night. And I signed up for grade nine courses. They included Math, Trigonometry, Biology, Physics, Chemistry and History.

Oh boy was I ever in trouble here. Whew! I thought I was going to die after that class list was given to me. Right now, as I look back on things, I can laugh at myself as I went about getting my classes sorted. I thought that I was in charge, when in reality, the teachers were. They could choose whether or not to accept me in their class, or if I was worth teaching.

Before I attended classes, I needed to take a bunch of aptitude tests to determine where my learning strengths and weaknesses were going to sit. Well, a week later, I crammed into a small classroom and took the required tests. I found out later I was smarter than I thought. I was in some way I was relieved, and in another, anxious. Could I really do the work? Only time would tell.

There was hope, some but then again, maybe not so much of a future. You see, I had to survive this. I had these recurring thoughts that this was a very bad choice for me. Could I be having intuitive insight about myself? All that I know is that my thoughts drifted back to my life on the streets. I was not quite so confident that I would survive this unknown environment.

I found new questions that arose for me. Would I be OK in this situation? Could I make friends? How difficult would this be for me? I knew the answers to all these years later on, of course. I did manage to survive, make friends, and yes I did find it extremely challenging and difficult. I took this adventure as a new stage in my life with vigor but maybe not the enthusiasm that I should have had or being as happy as I wanted to be.

But still, I did take it with the preferential grain of salt. School started for me 1 week before Labor Day here in Canada , the first Monday in September. That first week would prove to be very, very interesting and challenging to say the least. You see, I was so lost and confused, that I needed a road map to get to all my classes and especially a classroom that would be my "homeroom". It was very different, far different from K till 8 in the rural setting that I had grown up in. I guess my new adventure would begin, soon enough. Who knew how it would turn out for me? I certainly did not have the slightest clue. Oh well.