It has been a day and a half since I left Rory, and I'm fighting hard to forget her. That's what I need to do, just forget I met her. Stay low like I planned. Hide out. But my mind drifts back to her, like she's a river current in my head, and I can't swim against it. I can't do anything but drown in it.

To distract myself I'm up late reading more of the letter I found sewed inside my stuffed rabbit. Nikki must have written it right after Emmie was born, judging from the things she mentions. That means she knew she was giving me up and this was her only chance to tell me anything without Ray knowing. I bet she thought I would find the letter right away since the rabbit was the only possession that mattered to me, but she's never asked me if I found it. She's never mentioned it at all.

The pages-long letter is almost like a diary. She talks about my dad, how he was very young and messed up. He was on drugs, and he shot himself in the head before he knew I existed. "I know this is probably a lot to take in, Austin. You probably wished for a different story about your father, but there it is. A short life wasted, leaving only one worthwhile thing behind: you."

But I don't wish for a different story about my father. Even when I was little I didn't wish for any father at all. I thought if I had one, he would be like Ray, only he'd look like me which would be even more horrifying. A doppelgänger from hell. I never imagined a super hero dad swooping in to save me. I knew that I would always have to be the one to save me.

Nikki gave birth to me in a bathroom at a gas station. All alone. No family, nothing. She wanted to throw me away, that's what she said. She wanted to throw me in the trash. Then she met Ray through a friend, and he offered her what she needed most: a sense of security. I guess I escaped the garbage truck by a stroke of "luck" but I refuse to accept that I'm alive because of Ray.

"I was a sucker for those pretty bad boys. The fucked up, damaged boys. The ones I thought I could save. They had me whipped without ever having to speak to me. It's like this complex I had. I just kept thinking I could save them, love them back to life," she writes.

It sucks when you start to see things from your enemy's perspective, because your rage doesn't feel so righteous anymore. It sucks even worse when you start to see yourself in them, start to understand them in some way.

I'm sure Nikki didn't wake up one day and think, "Damn, I wanna be a tweaked out whore at the mercy of a vicious sociopath who rents my son to pedos! How do I get started?" But that's what happened. It's hard to imagine the string of horrible choices that led to her fate. Why didn't she stop herself from making any one of those choices? Was she stupid? Was she broken? I mean, what? What the fuck, Nikki? Why? I'll never have those answers, and I really hate her for that. I guess she thinks this is the best she can offer: the cold truth.

Nikki's truth has complicated things. Mostly because it has thrown a wrench into the waters of my silent, placid lake of hate for that woman. It has disturbed me to my core because her life has been so like mine: growing up alone, abused, unwanted, but rejecting help and kindness when it was offered. Choosing the pain.

I like to tell myself I'm not choosing the pain. I'm just trying to make a life for me and Pixie. But if that's true, why can't Rory be in it? Why can't I call up Nancy and Riley and see how they're doing? Why can't I call Nikki and make sure she's alive? What am I so afraid of?

-------------

It's three more weeks before I give in and go visit Rory at The Natural Way. Getting work has been much harder since I broke my rib. A lot of the stuff I could do before is impossible now. I can't carry anything heavy, I can't move fast, I can't climb, and even just walking is painful. I've been doing a lot more panhandling because of it, but it's slow going, and most of what I make has to go to food and gas.

I'm trying to save a new stash, so I've been skipping meals a lot. Hunger gnaws at my insides constantly. Everything I buy goes to Pixie first. Then if there's anything left, I can eat too. My jeans have become so loose I have to safety pin them on the sides to make them fit. I try not to let Pixie in on any of our troubles. I fight to keep a smile on my face, even though I'm so hungry it hurts.

My lowest point comes the day I decide to visit Rory. That night, I have to make the choice between getting gas or eating dinner. I haven't eaten anything since last night, but the gas is more important. Without gas, we can't move around and stay invisible. Without gas, I can't find work or panhandle. Without gas, we can say goodbye to showers and clean clothes from the laundromat. It's everything.

That's how I find myself rummaging through the garbage cans next to the gas pumps as I fill up the tank. Pixie's in the back, so thankfully she can't see me. I'm so hungry I'm willing to eat anything to ease the burning pain in my empty stomach for just a few minutes. I think about food 24/7 and even dream about it. It's become my sole focus.

Most of what I find in the garbage can is, well, garbage, but I finally come across a box of doughnuts that still has one half-eaten glazed inside of it. The box is closed and doesn't look like it's been sullied by the trash around it. I devour the cold fragment of doughnut before the gas finishes pumping. Then my stomach hurts from eating too fast.

That's when I think about Rory and her offer to let us stay with her. I don't want to take that risk, but I'm running out of options. I'm no good to Pixie if I starve to death.

I climb into the van and look back at Pixie, who's sitting on the floor playing with a couple of dirty, frizzy-haired Barbies who have seen better days.

"Hey, Pixie?"

"What?" she asks, looking up at me.

"Wanna go visit Rory?" I ask with a grin, already knowing her response.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah!" Pixie shouts happily, jumping to her feet.

She's a hundred percent better from being sick. At least that much has worked out in our favor. As for everything else, things pretty much suck right now. I vow not to tell Rory how bad things are going, but as soon as she sees me, she knows.

"Austin! You're skin and bones!" she gasps.

She runs out from behind her register and throws her arms around me. I step back in surprise before wrapping my arms around her too. The only thing I can think is that I hope I don't smell too bad. It's been about four days since I had a shower, a week since I washed my clothes, and to top it all off I just ate a doughnut out of the trash. If I reek though, she doesn't mention it.

"Sorry I couldn't come sooner," I say as I pull away from her.

"I was worried," she says, "Then after two weeks went by, I just figured I'd probably never see you again. Thought you moved on."

"From Dallas? Nah, I like this city. It's home now. I wanted to come see you sooner. Things have just..." my voice trails off.

Luckily, Pixie saves me from having to finish my sentence. She's been impatiently jumping around, trying to get between us to hug Rory's legs.

Rory scoops her up in her arms. "You look like you feel better, Elsa!" she laughs.

"I do!" Pixie says happily. "Can we come to your house again?"

Rory glances at me questioningly. "Maybe, sweetie. I don't know."

To me, she says, "Can you wait around? I get off in about an hour."

I nod. "We'll be in the van."

What seems like just a few minutes later, Rory taps on the passenger's side window, and I lean across the seat to unlock the door. As she climbs inside, I see that she's holding two big sub sandwiches, three bags of chips, three bottles of Coke, and a half sandwich for Pixie. My stomach claws at my rib-cage when I see the food.

"Hungry?" Rory asks with a smile.

"A little," I say, trying to play it cool.

It's the first actual meal I've eaten in days. I've mostly lived on crackers, peanut butter and hard, uncooked Ramen noodles for weeks now. At that moment, that sandwich is the best thing I've ever tasted. I try to pace myself, knowing if I eat too much too fast I run the risk of puking. My stomach has probably shriveled to the size of a raisin by now.

The next ten minutes are completely silent as all of us devour the sandwiches and chips. Afterwards, I feel so sleepy and satisfied I could just drift off right here. I glance into the backseat and see that Pixie has fallen fast asleep on the bed. It's just me and Rory now.

"Thank you," I finally say, "I was hungry."

"I know," Rory says softly, "I could tell. When was the last time you ate before you came here?"

I shrug. I don't tell her about the trash can doughnut. "Yesterday."

"Austin," she whispers, "That's not good."

"I know. It's just been kinda tough lately," I say, rubbing the back of my neck nervously.

"How are you making money?"

"Mostly panhandling. Sometimes I can get simple jobs, but I can't do much. I'm still not healed up completely," I say.

"Come stay with me. Please," Rory says, her eyes pleading with me.

I stare straight ahead at the dark, empty parking lot. I can't even come up with a good excuse anymore. I know she's right.

"I just don't want to risk Blanca or your brother ratting us out. I can't trust anyone."

"You can trust me, which means you can trust the people I love. Plus, at least in Seth's case, he owes me big time, so he'll keep his mouth shut."

I take a deep breath and tap my fingers on the steering wheel in sets of five. "Okay. But you have to promise me. You have to swear that they'll keep quiet. And I want us to be able to come and go with no questions asked. It won't be an every night thing," I say.

Rory nods. "Deal. I promise they'll keep their mouths shut, and we won't tell my dad. Just know that the door is open, and you can stay anytime. Leave when you want. I just want you to have a safe place to go to when things get hard."

"Thank you," I mumble.

I'm still tapping my fingers without even realizing it. Five, five, five.

"What are you doing?" Rory asks, nodding at the steering wheel where my hand is.

"Oh. It's just a habit. Tapping. Counting. It helps me think," I mumble, embarrassed. I take my hand off the steering wheel and force it to stay still against my leg.

"You don't have to stop for me. I have my own little weird things I do to focus. Especially when I dance." Rory goes silent for awhile and then says, "Austin?"

"What?"

"Look at me."

I try to look at her, but I can't meet her eyes. It's something left over from my childhood, I guess, an unconscious reaction from my years as Ray's slave when I wasn't allowed to look anyone better than me in the eye.

I feel Rory's fingers on my chin as she gently lifts my head. "I've noticed you don't look me in the eye. At first I thought you were shy, but now I know that's not it," she says quietly. "Why?"

My heart is racing. I can't tell her it's because I've been conditioned not to, that it's so ingrained in my head it's like breathing. I can't tell her that Ray's slaves couldn't look up without consequences. Painful consequences that I still feel in my nightmares. What the hell would she think?

"I don't know. I guess it just makes me nervous," I say.

"Then we can practice."

"I don't know, Rory."

"Try. Look at me. Please, Austin."

I raise my eyes to meet hers, and for a long, long time, we just stare. There is something really weird that happens when you look into the eyes of another living thing for a long time. You can almost hear their thoughts. There's this vibration of energy humming in the empty space between. After awhile I can see Rory's soul, and she can see mine. Her soul is the color of a wedding dress. Not just white, but silky transparent gossamer lace. If air had a color this would be it. I want to kiss her so bad it hurts worse than the hunger that was gnawing at my belly only hours ago. She's breathtaking. Her soul is so beautiful. She's like a snowy night illuminated by nothing but stars.

I've never kissed a girl. I'm not even sure I'd know how. I've never touched a girl, made out with a girl, or had sex with a girl. I'm as clueless about relationships as I am about Shakespeare.

Memories of the electrical cord whistling as it came closer to slash my shoulder blades suddenly bombard me. I can't help it. I break the eye contact, and the moment dissolves.

"That was good. We can practice again next time," Rory says.

I nod. I'm still so shaken from the experience I can't say anything, and the silence is heavy. This is why Ray didn't let me look him in the eye. He knew I would see his soul, and that there would be nothing there.

Rory mercifully breaks the uncomfortable silence.

"Oh, I have a surprise for Pixie! It's Halloween this weekend."

"Yeah. Okay..." I say. I forgot about Halloween.

"So," she continues, leaning in close so Pixie doesn't hear. "I got her an Elsa costume and want to take her trick-or-treating in my neighborhood. You know, something fun and normal that all kids get to do. What do you think?"

I don't know what to say. Pixie will be thrilled. She's never once gotten to do something like that. It would mean the world to her. Before I can stop myself, I lean across the seat and kiss Rory's mouth, kiss her for everything she's done... for keeping me alive in every possible way. She's the one bright light in my darkness, a single star illuminating a lonely patch of deep space, changing everything with its light.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to," I say quickly, pulling back in shock and horror at what I've just done.

To my surprise, Rory laughs softly and leans in closer to me. "Well, I do mean to," she says, kissing me softly on the lips.

The warmth between our mouths rushes through my whole body, and I ache with how much I want her.

When we pull apart, Rory gently brushes my hair out of my eyes.

"I've wanted to do that for awhile." She smiles.

"Me too." I laugh.

"Seriously? You're hard to read, even when I looked you in the eye," she says, "Sometimes I have no idea what you think of me."

"Well now you know huh?"

Rory reaches towards the radio and asks, "Does it work?"

"Yeah, here," I say, turning it on.

We fall silent for a few minutes as I try to find something to listen to, my hands still shaking from the rush of that kiss... my first kiss. Then Rory gently puts her hand over mine on the radio dial.

"I love this song," she says softly.

"What is it?" I ask.

"It's called Sweet Annie. It's about realizing the person that you love is right in front of you, so you can stop running, stop searching. It's sweet," she says, blushing.

I take her hand in mine and gently run my thumb over it. My heart feels light for the first time in weeks. I don't know what this means or where we'll go from here, but I don't really care, because I could live in this moment for the rest of my life.

https://youtu.be/KN3wEzLp9do