April 2004
“Put it down and take a step back.” The redhead gestured with a flick of her wrist, slender fingers wrapped about the rubber grip of a snub-nosed revolver leveled at Rylee. The woman stood in a measured, practiced stance with both hands on the grip, one arm bent to absorb the recoil should it come to gunshots. She was pretty, really pretty; it was one of the first things Rylee noticed apart from the nickel-plated, snub-nosed revolver pointed at her head. They stood in the woman’s living room, or at least Rylee presumed it was her living room. Bathed in the ombre light of an oncoming storm just outside a pair of glass patio doors, the woman’s long red hair alternated between moments of glowing brilliance and dullness, though her facial expression remained stern. Rylee shifted uncomfortably, her eyes darting between the sliding patio door, to the front door just beyond the kitchen. “Don’t even think about it, you’re going nowhere. Drop the bag, sit on the couch, and keep those hands where I can see them.”
Rylee looked down at the olive-green knapsack in her hands, which she currently gripped by the strap. A quick glance back to the woman solidified her position, and finally, she released it, allowing it to thud against the carpet. The woman once again waved the pistol, and Rylee dropped to the couch, keeping her hands visible as ordered. Waves of panic hit her at intervals, and between each one, she did her best to assess her captor. She was a woman about Rylee’s height, flowing red hair, pasty white skin dotted with freckles. Her stance and posture were confident, far more so than Rylee, who was now cowering on the couch, palms upturned and body shaking. The woman hooked the backpack with her left foot and slid it across the floor, dropping into a crouch so that she could grip the zipper. Before giving it a pull, she looked to Rylee, who had now broken into a cold sweat and seemed to be sinking further back, into the couch cushions.
“What am I going to find in here?” the woman asked Rylee, keeping both her gaze and hand level, even as she sat on her haunches. Her emerald green eyes flicked away from Rylee for only a second as she gripped the zipper and then looked back to her. “Rope? Duct tape? Handcuffs? What was your plan?”
Rylee sat there, trembling as she tried to come up with some way to convey that she didn’t have a plan, but it was all she could do not to black out completely as the woman overturned the backpack, spilling the contents onto the floor of the living room. The woman looked at the pile with some confusion as she looked from Rylee’s belongings, back to Rylee.
“What’s this?” she demanded, her green eyes penetrating Rylee’s soul as a scowl began to form on her lips.
“It’s just um…” Rylee began to use a shaky hand to point to the pile. Her water bottle, a half-empty pack of Advil, a five dollar bill, and a few other odds and ends - things that wouldn’t be particularly useful in a home invasion.
“What is all this?” the woman demanded, releasing the grip of her pistol and running a finger over the water bottle, and then the cracked exterior of an old flip phone.
“Just…my stuff,” Rylee said nervously. She sat stiffly, her shoulders hunched and making only occasional eye contact with the woman.
“Your stuff,” the woman repeated slowly, picking up the canvas-sleeved bottle, then a pill bottle, which she held up to the light and shook; a few pills rattled around inside the tube, prompting the woman to look at Rylee suspiciously. “You doing drugs?”
Rylee shook her head.
“What’s this then?”
“It’s um…Premarin,” Rylee mumbled. “I use it for--”
The woman raised her hand, indicating that Rylee should stop talking and then let out a sigh. “What are you doing in my house?”
“I just…I…” Rylee’s voice trembled; her body shook as she searched her mind for an answer that made sense. Her mouth went dry and any remaining confidence she’d had now dissipated in the face of the woman’s emerald green eyes and the periodic flash of metal from her pistol, still leveled at her body. The woman furrowed her brow, studying Rylee, and nearly causing her to have a panic attack on top of the one that she was already having. She set her jaw, drawing in breath after short ragged breath as her hands clenched and she slowly drew her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them and burying her face in her legs.
“Hey,” The woman said, hesitating only a second before setting her pistol on the glass coffee table. She rose from her crouched position and stepped over to Rylee, who was now trying to burrow her way into the cushions. “Hey, come on, what’s your name?” She laid her knee against the cushion, sinking in slightly as she came to a rest beside Rylee, peeking over her knees to catch a glimpse of her face. “My name is Tori, what’s yours?”
Rylee, with her head still buried in her legs, muttered something incomprehensible into the folds of her jeans which forced Tori to suppress a smirk as she gently pushed the girl’s knees aside, revealing a bruised and sun-scorched face framed by a tangled mess of blonde hair that draped about her shoulders. She was young -- really young, perhaps seventeen, maybe eighteen. Definitely not more than eighteen. As Tori managed to expose her face, the girl suddenly made eye contact with her, eyes wide, body trembling as Tori offered a slight smile.
“You okay in there?” she asked jokingly. Rylee offered a quick shrug and immediately lowered her head. Tori placed a gentle hand beneath her chin, raising it to meet her eyes once again. “What’s your name? It’s okay, no one’s going to hurt you.”
“R-Rylee,” Rylee muttered quickly, almost inaudibly before turning her head away and shrugging out of Tori’s grasp. “C-can I go?”
“Where would you go?” Tori asked gently. “Do you live around here?” The girl, Rylee, shrugged again. “Do you break into a lot of houses?”
“P-please don’t call the police,” Rylee said in a begging tone. “I…”
“Calm down,” Tori said softly as she traced a finger beneath Rylee’s eye, noting the deep, black half circles that seemed to accompany a deep-seated exhaustion evident in the girl’s demeanor and sluggish motion. “I’m not calling the police, I just want you to breathe. Okay?”
Rylee nodded, squeezing her eyes shut and shrinking back even more as Tori studied her, trying to formulate some sort of plan. She touched the collar of Rylee’s too-big shirt, smiling slightly as she realized it had been lifted from her closet. That was part of it, at least; the girl had broken in to take a shower and ‘borrow’ a pair of fresh clothes. It might have even gone unnoticed if Tori hadn’t come home unexpectedly. She parted her lips slightly and exhaled, all the while keeping her eyes locked on Rylee’s face.
“Rylee,” she said finally, in as firm a voice as she could manage. Slowly, Rylee opened her eyes and looked at Tori. “Do you understand that I’m not going to hurt you, and that I won’t be calling the police?”
Rylee nodded slowly.
“Do you understand that you’re safe here?”
Another nod.
“Would you come with me?”
The progress was slow, and Tori felt as if she’d won a minor victory when Rylee finally rose from the couch and accepted Tori’s hand as she led her away from the living room, past the kitchen, and toward the hallway that would lead to her bedroom. As she maneuvered her through the narrow space, she took the opportunity to examine her visually, doing her best to suppress her expressions of disbelief at the girl’s physical state. She was thin, almost absurdly so, and Tori suspected it was far more than the result of a few missed meals. More than that, she could see a bruise running along her left forearm, and there was a visible limp in her gait. What on Earth had happened to this girl? Her concerns were further compounded as she gently lowered the girl’s tiny, shaking form onto her bed and sat beside her, observing a long bruise, black and blue, stretching from the corner of her eye all the way to the tip of her chin. With two gentle fingers, she traced the line of her cheekbone, watching all the while as she lay limp against the pillow.
The girl wasn’t asleep yet; she lay immobile, still trembling against Tori’s pillow, her eyes watching, tracking as Tori gripped the mess of blankets at her feet and pulled them around her body.
“Hey,” Tori said, drawing the girl’s attention. “I’m sorry for putting a gun in your face, okay?”
Rather than responding, the girl stared at Tori, but her eyelids seemed to grow heavier moment by moment as she fought the urge to plummet into sleep -- a battle that she lost within seconds. Her eyes came to a halfway-closed position as her head tilted to the side. Tori watched her for a moment before standing up and returning to the living room.
The girl’s belongings were strewn out across the floor, and Tori quickly took inventory, examining each one before dropping it back into the worn backpack. The canvas-sleeved water bottle, the cell phone, a small purple notebook, the pill bottle labeled ‘Premarin’, with a prescription made out to someone named ‘Hayley’.
“Premarin,” she said aloud, holding the pill bottle up to the light. She frowned and twisted the cap off, dropping the few remaining capsules into her hand. They were just red capsules, nothing really special about them. She shrugged and dropped them back into the bottle. Maybe there was nothing nefarious about it, other than the wrong name on the prescription bottle. She dropped it back into the backpack and then dropped onto the couch, trying to get a handle on what had just occurred.
On the surface it was simple: she’d come home early from work and found the girl in her house, raiding her pantry. She should call the police, but if one were to look past the surface of the situation it was far more complicated. The girl was hurt, she was emaciated, and she was exhausted -- not exactly your typical home invader.
“I should call the police,” Tori said aloud to no one. She closed her lips and turned her head, gazing through the sliding patio door that overlooked the backyard beyond an aging, peeling deck. She muttered it to herself again as she tossed the backpack aside and began to pace the living room, wringing her hands and taking the occasional glance toward the hallway leading back toward her room. Her thoughts wandered to the backpack. Just basic stuff, no ID, and yet nothing to indicate the girl was a threat. She couldn’t help but think of her lying there, tiny, emaciated, bruised. Was she running from something? Was Tori overthinking the entire situation? “I really should call the police.”
Rylee awoke with a start and immediately sat upward, light headed and dizzy, she kicked her legs against the mattress, pushing herself back toward the brief headboard which consequently slammed into the wall behind.
“Rylee!” Tori said loudly, leaning forward and placing her hands on the girl’s shoulders as she struggled for her life against the sheets, now entangling her legs. “Okay, Rylee, stop, stop!”
Tori made a sudden grab for the girl’s wrists, managing to wrap her fingers around one, then the other, pressing them together in front of the girl’s body and pressing them to her chest as she looked intently into her eyes. “Rylee, you’re okay. You’re safe. You’re safe.”
It seemed like an eternity before the girl worked up the nerve to respond. She sat there, arms immobilized, looking back into Tori’s eyes. It was dark outside now, and her face was partially illuminated by the moonlight seeping through the bedroom window. The room around them had taken on an eerie quality; white moonlight had reduced the color of the room to a dull monochrome for those spots that were visible; the sides were still bathed in darkness, and Tori was just barely visible.
“S-safe?” the girl, Rylee, echoed back to Tori, who nodded, keeping her grip on her wrists. “Where am I?”
“You’re in my bedroom,” Tori said, matter of factly.
“How did I get here?”
“You broke into my house, remember?” Tori asked her. “What’s your last name, Rylee?”
“Uh…”
“Okay, forget that,” Tori shook her head. “What’s your date of birth?”
Rylee simply stared at her, as if she had failed to comprehend the question.
“Rylee,” Tori said. “I’m trying to see how alert and oriented you are. You look dehydrated, and you for sure don’t look like you’ve been eating, so I’ll ask you again, what’s your date of birth?”
“Um…” Rylee paused before answering, looking at her wrists, still held in place by Tori, and then around the room as if looking for a way out. “January 18th. Nineteen eighty-six.”
“Where were you born?”
“Um…Jacksonville. Florida.”
“Is that where you’re from?” Tori slowly loosened her iron grip on Rylee’s wrists and allowed her to set her hands in her lap. Rylee shook her head and looked away, resting her head against the wall with a slight thud. “Be careful, don’t hurt yourself!”
“I’m--”
“Okay, okay,” Tori said. “Okay, do you live around here?”
Rylee shook her head.
“Are you from somewhere far away?”
She nodded.
“Your feet are blistered. Badly. You’ve been walking?
Rylee nodded.
“How far?”
She shrugged.
“Rylee, you…oh my god. You can’t just walk around like that. You can’t…didn’t anyone ever tell you how dangerous it is to walk around by yourself? Especially that far? Someone will take advantage of you or hurt you. You’re tiny, Rylee!”
Tiny. Rylee grimaced at the thought. How often had she been called that? In a way it was what she had been going for, but she hated being underestimated.
“I’m fine,” Rylee said simply, her voice nearly catching in her throat as Tori watched her intently.
“You’re not. You have bruises all over your body--”
“Did you look?” Rylee asked suddenly, her eyes wide, a look of fear forming on her face. Tori frowned.
“No,” Tori said. “I can see a bruise on your arm, and your face, it’s probably everywhere else too.” As she spoke, Rylee suddenly breathed a sigh of relief that made Tori frown again.
“I should go.”
“Go where?”
“I…” Rylee tried to respond, paused, and shrank back against the headboard. “I just…should go.”
“I have a friend about my age, she has a daughter. School’s out for the summer and she wants to start a new job. Problem is she needs a babysitter and she can’t find anyone. I think that’s a problem you and I can solve together. You don’t seem to have a problem with wearing my clothes, so--”
“Wait, no,” Rylee said, suddenly panicking. “I can’t stay here, I have to--”
“Rylee, I’ve put a lot of thought into this. I don’t know you that well but I know you’re a kid in trouble and--”
“I’m not a kid!” Rylee said, suddenly defensive. “I’m eighteen!”
“Like I said, a kid. So what happens next? You break into another house? Then another? What happens when someone pulls a gun and kills you for real? Scoot over, I’m tired.”
There was little argument to be had as Tori pulled back the sheets and climbed into the bed beside her. Rylee immediately scrambled to the far side, slamming into the wall as Tori tugged the blanket over them both.
“You okay?” Tori asked Rylee in the darkness as she felt her trembling form against her. Rylee’s increased breathing was the only answer she received. “You understand why I’m doing this, right?” Silence. “Rylee, answer me, please.”
“…I don’t know.” Rylee’s small, timid and shaking voice wafted over the sheets after what seemed like an eternity of silence.
“You’re eighteen, but you have a December birthday, and December wasn’t all that long ago. Did you leave home when you were eighteen?”
Silence. “Rylee.”
“No.”
“When?”
“…2002,” Rylee finally answered after another stretch of silence.
“And what, you’ve been wandering around since then?
“…yeah…I…yeah.”
“Did anyone hurt you?” Tori asked what she knew to be a loaded question and waited for a response. The only reply she received was Rylee’s short, shallow breaths which came in rapid succession, punctuated by the sound of the house’s central air kicking in. Finally, Tori spoke again, softer this time. “Rylee, I’m going to make you answer me every time.”
“…yes.”
“If you go out there by yourself, it’ll happen again. Maybe not today, but it will happen. Someone will hurt you and if you’re lucky, that’s all they’ll do. Go to sleep, Rylee. We have a lot to do tomorrow.”
Rylee’s apprehension lifted and her body surrendered to the exhaustion of the past few days, and as she sank further and further into that abyss, she became hyper-aware of the acute throbbing in her feet.
At the apex of a dreamless sleep, her eyes shot open and she was momentarily confused, finding herself in the darkness of Tori’s room, accented only by the rectangular ray of moonlight projected on the bedroom floor, shaped by the window and stretched to the closet on the other side of the room. Panic rose and fell in her chest as she gradually remembered where she was, memories of a long road, sprawling fields, and the unrelenting elements fading into the past. She carefully slid herself toward the end of the bed, maneuvering past Tori’s legs, tangled in the white sheets. Her feet touched the carpet and she padded away from the bed, stopping at the intersection between the bedroom door and the door to the attached bathroom. The urge to simply flee the house was still there in the back of her mind, but fading with every passing moment.
Why should I leave? Rylee wondered to herself, directing the question to the side of her that simply wanted to bolt through the door and tear off down the street, taking a turn toward the nearest patch of forest and disappearing from the face of the earth. She’s right. You’re just going to get hurt.
She’ll want you to get hurt, when she figures out what you are, Rylee responded to herself, causing her body to stiffen. No one wants you, you’re disgusting.
“She wants me,” Rylee whispered to herself, her voice almost completely inaudible over the beating of her heart. “I guess, I mean--”
Rylee froze, glancing back to the bed to see if Tori had heard her or seen her talking to herself. She studied the long, outstretched form of the redheaded woman she’d met only hours before, trying to discern a face in the lump of sheets and comforter, but darkness shrouded her, the only remaining clues being the even rise and fall of her chest. Rylee relaxed a little, then turned defiantly to the attached bathroom. Inside, she quietly closed the door and flicked the light switch, flinching as her eyes were assaulted with blinding white light from three CFL bulbs affixed to the bathroom mirror. She stepped forward, studying herself in the mirror, an expression of apprehension and fear validated as she immediately identified the male features emblazoned on her face by some kind of twisted birthright.
“She won’t want you, when she figures out what you are,” her reflection said, taking on more and more male characteristics as she stood there. Her face, framed by long blonde locks, was easily identified as male upon close inspection. “You’re stupid if you think she can’t tell.”
“She can’t,” Rylee muttered. “And even if she can, she still wants me here.”
“Who even is she?” Rylee’s increasingly masculine reflection sneered. “You just met her how long ago? She held a gun to your head.”
“She was scared.”
“You should be too.”
“I just want someone to love me.” Rylee’s voice was a whisper; the reflection was unrelenting.
“And you think she loves you?” The reflection seemed to be stifling a laugh. “Run before she figures you out.”
“She won’t.”
“They always do. Eventually.”
They always do.
Those three words hung in the air, haunting Rylee’s steps as she left the bathroom, flicking the light switch and stepping back into the bedroom. Once again she found herself at the intersection between the bathroom and bedroom door, her toes barely out of the rectangular patch of moonlight.
No one loves you. No one loves us.
“Shut up,” Rylee muttered, almost inaudibly. She took a step forward, then another, then another until she stood at the foot of the bed, shuffling her way into it and working her way upward, until finally she lay beside Tori. Her breath was nearly stolen from her body as she saw Tori’s eyes, open and watching her in the darkness. They both lay there, Rylee’s ragged breath returning to normal as Tori simply watched her for a moment, and then reached her thin, yet firm hand through a tangle of sheets to find Rylee’s. Their fingers intertwined, and she pulled Rylee’s hand upward, resting it against the center of her chest. Silence hung between them as they drifted off to sleep, with that ever-present voice haunting Rylee’s thoughts; an underlying current of negativity that would never dissipate.
No one loves you.
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.”
“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.”
Hi Everyone!
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From: [email protected]
Subject: It was Always Meant for You
Dear Rylee,
Well, it’s been a bumpy few months, hasn’t it? I know you never check your e-mail, but I hope someday you do open it up and you see all these messages. First thing I want to say is you made a tough choice. You gave up your autonomy, your freedom of choice, and you put it all in my hands, trusting that I would guide you. God, Rylee, that’s huge and I’m hoping against hope that I can live up to my word.
I’m going to ask a lot of you over the next few years. I’m going to push you to your limits and make sure that you’re working to the best of your potential. It won’t always be pretty, and you won’t always be comfortable, and hell, you might even hate me from time to time, but I’m not going to give up on you. There are just a few things that I ask of you, but I have faith that by the time you read this, you’ll have delivered on all of them.
Be patient with me. I’m learning, Rylee, and I’m trying, but I’m so new to all of this. I’m not going to get it right every time and definitely not the first time, but I’ll get there. Don’t give up on me!
Understand that sometimes it’s going to hurt. I’ve asked that you behave as a child, and there’s a good reason for that. You didn’t have a childhood, and you deserve one. You deserve to know what it’s like to be happy and carefree, even if you don’t get the full eighteen years, but understand that it comes with sacrifice. I may punish you, or take things away from you, but it will never be done without reason, and if you feel that I’ve overstepped or that I’m wrong, I hope that you understand you can come to me, and that we can talk. The same goes for Mom, and it goes for Fiona; you’re not expected to follow us blindly. You may not always understand, but you can always ask!!!
Know that you can talk to me. This is going to be a hard one for you, probably, because I can be hot-headed, but even if you think I’m mad, you can still come talk to me and I’ll listen to you, every time. You don’t need to hide in your room or avoid me. I’ll never be too mad to talk to you. I love you, little sis.
Ask questions! You’re living a whole new life, Rylee Blackburn. You have new experiences, new connections and new challenges. When you picked ‘option 2’, you changed the course of our lives. It’s a learning experience for me, and I want us to be there for each other.
Our life is going to be full of challenges; some of them might seem simple, others impossible, but we’re going to get through them, together. You probably think I saved you, but we saved each other, little sister. We did that together. I was at my wit’s end, you were on your last leg. It’s one hell of a pair we make. It’s not just me, Mom loves you too, even if she’s a little bit stern with you (I heard about the hospital).
I guess what I’m trying to say, Rylee, is thank you. Thanks for being there when I needed you, and as always, sorry for putting a gun in your face. I’ll try not to do it again. No promises.
Also, Rylee. My love was never meant for someone else. It was always meant for you.
Love,
your Big Sister,
Tori