Young Freed is taken in by Bix and Ever, and tries to figure out where to go from here.

-----

Ten Years Ago

"Bix, did you pick up another stray?"

The door to the VW station wagon rolled open and a petite woman with long brown hair leaned back from the front seat to gaze at them, unimpressed. Bix was unperturbed, folding up his cane and sliding into the seat. Freed followed him carefully.

"Hey," they said, giving a little wave. "I'm, um, Freed." Ever gave them a once-over and Freed felt very self-conscious about the fact they hadn't been able to bathe other than in a bathroom sink for three weeks. They had also cut their hair short with craft scissors at the first bus station they'd stopped at, and they knew it was bad.

"Your hair looks terrible." Ever raised an eyebrow. "Are you... homeless or something?"

"Ever!" Bix's voice was sharp. "Don't be rude. Freed needs our help and is gonna stay with us for a bit." Freed shrank back into the seat, hoping desperately to stay out of the impending fight, but nothing happened.

"Sorry." Ever shrugged and gave Freed a half-smile, then settled back in her seat and adjusted the rear-view mirror as she pulled out of the library parking lot. Freed blinked. That wasn't usually how their parents fought.

"Is it still coming down hard?" Bix asked, tucking his cane beside him and adjusting his seatbelt. The inside of the car was barely warmer than outside, and Freed tucked their hands into their hoodie to keep themself warm.

"Yeah." Freed looked out the window, amazed by the thick, heavy flakes that were coming down. The thought that without Bix they would be sleeping outside in this weather made their throat tighten. "Does it usually snow like this here?"

A police cruiser's lights flashed ahead of them, and Freed could see several vehicles pulled off to the side of the road, pieces of glass reflecting blue and red.

"Sometimes, but it'll melt in a couple of days." Bix gave them a smile. "It's usually pretty mild here since we're so close to the ocean. When did you get here?" He paused, smile fading. "Please don't tell me you slept outside in this weather."

"No, no," Freed reassured him, then paused. "Well, not here. I just got here this morning." Two days ago, they'd been in some city called Calgary where they had spent the night outside the train station. It had been their worst night – they'd been continually harassed and perpetually terrified, and hadn't slept at all.

"Where are you from?" Ever asked from the front seat. She turned up the heat until it was blasting on their feet, and Freed squirmed uncomfortably at the sensation of their wet socks in their shoes.

They hesitated. Was it safe to tell them? What if Bix found out who Freed was and contacted their parents? Freed was already perpetually on edge, expecting the police or their father to jump out from behind every corner to drag them away to be brainwashed.

"Wisconsin," Freed said after a minute, realizing that they were being ridiculous. Their parents probably weren't even looking for them anyway – the thought made their chest ache. Bix's eyes went wide.

"Jesus, I thought you were from Abbotsford or something," he said. Freed didn't know where that was, but they assumed it was closer than Wisconsin. "Why'd you come all the way out here?"

"I was just... running, I guess," Freed said quietly. They picked at the strings of their hoodie. "I was – am – scared that my dad's going to find me. Or send the police, and I thought maybe..."

Freed trailed off, rubbing their eyes. Gods, they were tired. Tired and sad and dirty and their heart hurt. "I don't want to go back," they whispered.

"Hey, nobody's gonna make you do anything," Bix said gently, nudging Freed with his knee. "What we are going to do is go home and eat a bunch of Chinese food, then you're gonna shower and we'll wash your clothes, and after that you're gonna get a good night's sleep on a real bed." Freed sniffed, trying to keep their composure. "We'll worry about everything else tomorrow. Okay?"

"Okay," Freed whispered, pulling their hoodie tighter around them.

They looked out the window – they were driving through a residential area now, and some of the houses still had Christmas lights up even though it was already March. Ever flicked on the blinker and pulled into one of the driveways, entering the garage and turning the car off.

"Here we are," she said, hopping out of the car and coming around to the passenger side to grab the food from the front seat. Freed opened the sliding door and climbed out, pulling their backpack after them, then looked to Bix uncertainly. Ever shook her head.

"Bix is a strong independent man who don't need no help," she joked, and Freed blushed.

"S-sorry," they mumbled, but Bix brushed off their apology good-naturedly. He didn't take out his cane, just oriented himself on the wall and gestured for Freed to go ahead of him to the stairs.

"Don't apologize for being thoughtful," he said, stepping into the foyer and shrugging off his jacket, then pointing for Freed to do the same. Ever sidestepped them both, kicking off her shoes and heading down the hallway with the takeout boxes. "I'm used to it. People are never sure what I can and can't do – I try to never get offended when someone offers to help, even if I don't need it."

"Were you – I mean, can – do you..." Freed groaned, running a hand over their face. Bix laughed gently, leading Freed down the hall after Ever. A staircase led upwards on their left, but instead they turned right into a spacious kitchen. It opened into a dining area, and around the wall was a large living room with an enormous sectional that Bix plopped down on.

"I've been blind forever," Bix said as Freed sat down tentatively next to him. "I was born super and spent a long time in NICU. Ended up with this thing called retinopathy of prematurity, basically my retinas detached? Pretty gross." Freed swallowed, frowning. They weren't certain what was appropriate to comment on. "It's fine, really. There's almost nothing you could say that would upset me." Freed believed it. Bix seemed so easygoing it was almost unreal.

"Bix, get your damn feet off the table. Were you born in a barn?" Ever smacked Bix's foot and he stuck his tongue out at her. "Plate?" She held it out until it touched the back of his arm and he accepted it. "Left to right we've got fried rice, ginger beef, dumplings, spring rolls, and green onion cakes." She handed a plate to Freed as well, who took it with a soft thanks, and then she headed back to the kitchen.

"All that to say that I'm pretty much completely blind," Bix continued, feeling in front of him for the utensils. "But I've never been able to see, so I'm not missing out on anything." He grinned, scooping fried rice onto his plate. "My only ask is that you don't move anything around in here. Furniture, or things on the counter. Everything's in a specific place so I can find it."

"Oh... of course," Freed said quietly.

Bix leaned back and began to pick at his food with his chopsticks. Freed hesitated, running their fingers over the edge of their plate. What were they doing? They didn't know these people. Why was Bix helping them? What if their father found out? Was someone on their way right now to drag them back?

"Breathe," Bix said gently, nudging Freed with his knee. "Deep breaths. You sound like you're gonna faint." Freed made a weak noise, setting their plate down and running their hands over their face. They were so, so hungry, but the idea of accepting this food was terrifying. What was it going to cost them?

"I don't... I can't pay you back," they whispered. Blood rushed to their cheeks, making them dizzy.

"Don't be silly," Bix murmured, touching Freed's shoulder gently. "When was the last time you ate?" Freed swallowed, running a hand through their messy hair.

"Um," they said shakily, "y-yesterday, I think." One of the trains had provided free crackers and hard candies, and Freed had pocketed as many of them as they could without suspicion. The meagre four hundred dollars they'd saved up had run out after the second week, and the past few days they'd been forced to beg for spare change or steal from convenience stores.

"Eat something." Bix's voice was firm but gentle, and he nudged Freed's arm. "I'm not looking for anything from you in return. Ever makes fun of me for taking in strays, but I just... I can tell you need someone right now, and I promise you that you're safe here." Freed sniffled a few times, wiping their face, then picked up their plate again and began to load it up with food.

"Thank you," they said around a mouthful of ginger beef. Gods, it tasted good. They tried to pace themself so they wouldn't get sick, but it was hard when they were so hungry. "I'm just... so scared."

"Of what?" Ever came back into the living room with a glass of wine and plopped down on the other side of Freed, crossing her legs and shoveling rice into her mouth. Bix must have given her a look over Freed's head, because she raised a hand in submission. "Sorry, none of my business." She paused, chopsticks halfway to her mouth. "Okay, let's start over again. I'm Ever, Bix's roommate and occasionally his only form of self-control. I work at an animal shelter 'cause I like dogs better than people." She gestured at Freed. "Your turn."

"Oh. Um... I'm Freed?" They said it like a question, then shook their head. "I am Freed. I changed my name. My old one didn't fit." They swallowed, avoiding eye contact. "I use they and them as pronouns." Ever didn't seem fazed. "I like... theatre and music. I s-speak French and I'm – I was – learning Japanese." They felt the knot in their chest slowly relaxing – not dissolving completely, but loosening enough that Freed felt like they could eat and talk and be comfortable.

"And I'm Bix!" Bix set his empty plate down, licking a bit of sweet-and-sour sauce from his thumb. "Obviously I'm a librarian – I love books and I love helping people. Ever says I'm too nice but I say there's no such thing. There's always room to be kind." Ever rolled her eyes but didn't say anything. "I also love dogs! I'm working on getting a new service dog – my last one retired around a year ago and it's been a bit of a challenge going to work and to new places on the bus without her."

"There, now we all know each other." Ever finished off her plate and set it on the table, on top of Bix's. "And I'm sorry for being a bitch. Bix says I have no filter."

"It's because you don't," Bix said, his voice full of fond exasperation.

"It's... okay. My hair does look awful," Freed admitted. As soon as they'd cut it off, they'd regretted it. They'd wanted to both be different enough to hide from anyone looking for them, and look more androgynous, hoping it would make their gender identity more comfortable. It certainly hadn't had the intended effect.

"Do you want me to fix it for you?" Ever offered. She reached out and grabbed an uneven lock between her fingers, measuring it against Freed's face. "I took cosmetology in high school."

"You, um, well you probably couldn't make it look worse," Freed admitted, giving Ever a half-smile. She laughed, tugging on their hair and then standing up, dusting off her jeans.

"Alright, come with me," she said, reaching out for Freed's hand and tugging them to their feet. "Bix, you're on cleanup. Dishwasher's clean." He groaned, but waved for them to leave. Freed followed Ever uncertainly out of the living room and back to the staircase. She gestured back to the front door. "Go grab your bag, we'll throw your stuff in the laundry too."

Twenty minutes later, Freed was sitting on a stool in the upstairs bathroom, towel draped over their baggy sweater. Ever had kindly asked whose clothes Freed preferred to borrow – hers or Bix's – and they had ended up in a combination of Ever's sweatpants and Bix's hoodie. The sleeves needed to be rolled up several times, but Ever hadn't had anything baggy enough to sufficiently hide Freed's chest.

"I think the sides are a lost cause," Ever said, running her fingers through Freed's damp hair. "Okay, what if I cut the sides and back short, but leave the top long? Are you planning on growing it out again?"

Freed nodded, feeling their cheeks turn pink. Ever picked up the scissors from the counter and began to cut the ends, letting the trimmed bits fall to the floor. She worked in a comfortable silence, the rhythm of combing and snipping nearly lulling Freed to sleep.

"Thank you," they said when Ever was about halfway through. She hummed softly, combing the longer portion off to the side of Freed's face. "I didn't know what to do." Freed felt tears pushing behind their eyes and they sniffed, blinking rapidly to prevent them from falling.

"Oh, geez, I'm terrible at this touchy-feely shit," Ever said awkwardly, patting the side of Freed's head. "You're... it's cool, I dunno what you're running from but Bix took me in too. He's just a genuinely good person."

Freed was tempted to ask what she had been running from, but decided to just nod in agreement instead. Bix did seem like a good person, and if he hadn't found...

"Would you seriously have slept outside if he hadn't found you?" Ever asked, as if reading Freed's mind. They shrugged, uncertain.

"Maybe? I don't have... anywhere to go." They fiddled with the too-long sleeves of Bix's hoodie and avoided their reflection in the mirror. Before they'd left home, their blonde hair had been down to nearly the center of their back. Now...

"Family? Friends?"

"My dad's family lived on the commune where I'm from," Freed said softly. "They'd just as soon help my him send me away to that camp than help me run. And I never met any of my mom's family – they weren't allowed to see me or my siblings." Freed was sure that their voice was bitter, but they continued anyway. "My only friends were at school, but that's back in Wisconsin, too."

"Well," Ever said after a moment, pulling out the electric razor and fitting it with a numbered guard. "It's a good thing you're here instead of out there." Freed wasn't certain if she meant Wisconsin or out in the snow, but both seemed like equally unappealing options.

When Ever was finished with Freed's hair, she gestured for them to look in the mirror. They were pleasantly surprised – it wasn't long like they were used to, but it wasn't the choppy mess of earlier today either.

"Have you ever thought of dyeing it?" Ever asked, brushing Freed's neck with a towel. "I feel like green would look good on you. It would match your eyes." Freed tipped their head to the side – they'd never considered it. "Just something to think about. Anyway, have a shower, use whatever you want in there. There's a towel here for you. I think I hear Bix setting up the cot in the spare room, so go find him when you're ready."

"Thank you," Freed said again, feeling like it was inadequate to express how grateful they felt. Ever gave them a quick smile, then exited the bathroom and closed the door behind her.

Showering felt heavenly. The soap smelled like honey, and Freed spent much longer than necessary lathering and scrubbing their body. They washed their hair three times, then scrubbed their face with some sort of exfoliating wash. When they finally left the bathroom, dressed once again in the sweatpants and hoodie, they felt more human than they had in a while.

"Perfect timing," Bix said, turning his head as Freed knocked on the door of the room. "Here's your bed." He gestured to the cot behind him, pushed up against a pile of boxes and old furniture. Freed's backpack rested on the ground, and the empty duffel bag was tucked underneath it. "Your clothes'll be dry by tomorrow. Do you need anything else?"

"N-no, I..." Freed's chest tightened and they took a shaky breath, overcome with emotion. Bix smiled, stepping towards Freed.

"Do you want a hug?" Freed wasn't sure if it was the gentle tone of Bix's voice, or the exhaustion, or the incredible sense of gratitude, but Freed didn't even answer, just threw themself at Bix. Bix let out a soft oof of surprise, then wrapped his arms around Freed and hugged them tightly. "You're a valuable person, Freed," Bix said, resting his cheek on their head. "And you're going to be okay."

~

a common bond
#introductions

Freed sat cross-legged in one of the library chairs, staring at the app on their phone and fidgeting uncomfortably. The counsellor they'd been speaking to at the Pride Centre had suggested the group – it was made up of queer youth across the country who were struggling with fanatically religious parents.

Freed had gotten as far as making a profile – ironically the only gender options were male or female, so Freed had picked male out of spite – and had then ignored the app for a week. Bix had finally prodded them into at least looking at other user's introductions.

angelvoodoo . 15d
Hi all, my name is Angel and I'm a 15yo trans girl in Ottawa. My mom & dad haven't found out yet but I'm scared they're gonna find my makeup or bras. I want to be out but they're always commenting on the 'trans bathroom' thing and how its not what God would want so I'm scared to. Anyway nice to meet all of you.

Freed chewed their lip, flipping through to another one.

outdamnedspot . 4d
Hey, I'm 17 and from Saskatoon and I'm a lesbian. My family is Mormon and I'm really struggling with how to live up to their expectations and be happy. I don't know what would happen if I came out to them, but I'm scared to find out.

Rubbing their face, Freed sighed. They weren't certain if knowing other people had similar experiences was reassuring or terrifying. They scrolled up to the very newest post.

greasedlightning . 1h
Hey, I'm 17 and I'm gay and my dad would probably kill me if he knew. Like actually kill me. He's a really high up 'priest' in this cult (he would also kill me for calling it a cult but that's what it is) and he took me out of school to drag me around the whole stupid country to convert people. It's the worst and we live in this stupid RV and I hate it. I'm thinking about jumping ship at the next town and running away, but I'm too scared to leave.

"How's it going?" Freed jumped in the chair as Bix's hand landed on their shoulder, and they exhaled sharply.

"You scared me," Freed said. Bix chuckled, settling down in the chair next to them. "I just got here. You on a break?"

"Nah, but it's not busy and I've got an intern so she gets to do all the work." Bix grinned, crossing on leg over his knee. "How was your meeting this morning?"

Freed sighed. True to his word, Bix had set Freed up with a counsellor at the Pride Centre, who was slowly helping them navigate their options. They had talked about potentially returning to their family, but when the counsellor had asked if Freed thought they might be physically harmed if they returned and they had answered "yes", that option was taken off the table.

"She can't... legally, I'm a minor, and I basically belong to my parents," Freed said bitterly. "If I had a family member here in Canada, they could sponsor me when I turn eighteen, but as far as I know, all my family lives in Wisconsin."

"Maybe they don't!" Bix tapped his fingers against his knee thoughtfully. "You said you've never met your mom's family, right?"

Freed nodded. Although their parents never talked about it, Freed had figured out that their mother's parents had left the commune before Freed was born. Their father had forbidden any contact, so Freed had never met those grandparents, aunts or uncles.

"You might have had someone who moved here. Want me to check? We have a couple computer programs here at the library that might be able to help."

"S-sure," Freed said, swallowing. They'd never been fond of their family – everyone was always so determined to tell Freed what they should be doing with their life, and how they wouldn't be a good wife if they didn't change their behavior. But maybe their mom's family would be different? "What do you need?"

After they wrote down a list of information for Bix and he headed back to the front of the library, Freed looked down at their phone again. The message from greasedlightning resonated with Freed, and they read through it again before finally creating their own post.

runique . now
Hi. I'm new to Canada. I don't actually live here, I guess, I'm kinda... crashing on the couch. Both literally and figuratively. My parents found me out a few weeks ago and threatened to send me to a conversion camp so I ran away. I guess you don't have those camps in Canada – or at least, not as many – which is why I'm hiding here. I'm trying to figure out a way to stay. It was terrifying to leave, so greasedlightning I definitely understand where you're coming from. I really, really don't want to go back.

Freed hesitated for a moment before hitting 'send'. Then they exhaled, setting their phone down on the table and resting their head back against the chair cushions.

They'd been in Magnolia for two weeks now, and it felt like it had been forever. Bix refused to let them leave and had helped Freed convert the spare room into an actual bedroom, albeit with a cot instead of a real bed. Freed had protested at first, but Ever had told him that there was no point arguing and had pointed out that Freed could help out around the house in other ways than just paying bills. Conveniently, it meant that she no longer did dishes, but Freed honestly didn't mind.

They stared down at their phone now, brow furrowed. The Pride Centre had been able to give them a small emergency fund to allow them to buy some toiletries, as well as a prepaid card for their phone, but they hadn't used it yet. Bix had also given them free reign on the library computers, but Freed had been too scared to reach out to their friends from school. What if they didn't care? What if they did, and they told Freed's father?

Freed groaned, tugging at the beanie that covered their hair, then reached out and snatched up the phone. Before they could stop themself they were dialing the familiar number and listening to the international calling message.

"Hello?" Freed's voice stuck in their throat. It was their mother. Their mother who raised them, who taught them to read with Bible stories and snuck them candies after Church service. Their mother who called them a disappointment when they argued about wearing dresses. Their mother who kissed their forehead and held them and sang to them when they were sick. Their mother who sneered, and who sniped at them with sharp words until it hurt. "Who is this?"

"Mom?" Freed's voice was quiet and shaky and they were already crying, heavy tears coursing down their cheeks and dripping onto their hoodie. "Mom?"

"Who is this?" Their mother who kept the dandelions Freed would pick in a glass on the windowsill. Their mother who gripped their arm so hard it had left bruises when they'd argued with her. Their mother who braided their hair and tucked daisies into it and called them beautiful. Their mother who watched their father hit them and did nothing.

"Mom, it's me," Freed begged. There had been a part of them – larger than they wanted to acknowledge – that had envisioned a tearful apology, an admission of guilt, a plea for them to come home. "It's... it's me. F-freed. Th-that's my name now, I ch-changed it, and I m-miss you an-"

"I don't know anyone by that name."

Freed gasped, feeling the words like a blow to the chest. They curled up on themselves, rubbing furiously at their tears with the heel of their hand. The phone was damp against their cheek.

"Mom, pleas-"

"Don't call here again." There was a pause, and Freed waited desperately for her to change her mind. "Goodbye."

The line went dead and Freed dropped the phone to the floor and began to sob – deep, heavy cries that echoed throughout the room, but Freed was grieving too hard to care.

Their mother who never wanted to speak to them again.

"Freed? Freed, what happened?" Bix knelt on the ground next to the chair, reaching out gently and touching Freed's face. "Are you hurt? You gotta tell me if you're hurt, okay?" Freed shook their head, a wounded noise escaping their throat.

"My... m-mom..." they gasped, and Bix made a sad sound, reaching out and pulling Freed into his arms. Freed grabbed Bix's sweater tightly, burying their face into his shirt and letting the tears pour out. Bix tugged them until they were on the floor next to him, practically in his lap.

"I'm so sorry," Bix murmured, stroking Freed's hair and holding them tightly. "You deserve so much better."

Freed trembled in Bix's arms, gasping with each breath, feeling waves and waves of grief pour through them. It had hurt when their father hit them – hurt for days, and left a tiny white scar from the cut from his ring. But this. This ached and spread through their body until every part of them trembled in distress.

"They don't... want me," Freed sobbed, and Bix hummed sympathetically, rocking them back and forth. "Sh-she's my mom, and I'm... and I d-don't underst-stand because I'm just... I'm m-me, and I didn't change, and I w-want... fuck!" They struck Bix's chest in frustration and Bix didn't flinch, just took Freed's hand in his own.

"I'm sorry," he said again, and Freed shook their head.

"M-maybe it's me," they whispered, hiccupping. "I'm w-wrong, and maybe I can just b-be who they want and they'll... but..."

"You don't want that," Bix said gently. "You can't be happy being somebody you're not. This isn't about you, it's about them. There's nothing wrong with who you are."

"But I don't even know who I am," Freed whispered. "I d-don't... maybe I'm just being s-stupid. Maybe... it's just some stupid... ph-ph-phase, and I can change, and I c-can just be... normal, and... and..." Their breathing was stuttered and uneven, interspersed with quiet, wounded sounds. Bix just held them, stroking their back and waiting out the tears.

"You aren't being stupid," Bix insisted eventually, hugging Freed tightly to his chest. Freed sniffed a few times, wiping their nose on their sleeve. "I know we've only known each other for a few weeks, but Freed – I like you. You're smart and sweet and thoughtful and kind, and that's much more important than what's in your pants." Freed laughed wetly. "If your parents can't see that, then they're missing out."

"Bix, I-"

"Wait, before you say anything, Ever always gets after me for confusing people with my 'gay-ass shit'." Bix made quotes with his fingers and grinned. "I mean that I like you as a friend. I don't like people that way. At all."

"Oh," Freed said, realizing that they weren't particularly surprised. At first, they had thought Bix and Ever might be a couple, but this made much more sense. "Okay. And yeah, I... thank you. You should be a counsellor or something."

"I thought about it," Bix admitted, disentangling himself from Freed and standing up. He offered a hand and pulled Freed to their feet. "But counsellors are expensive. Here I can help people for free. Plus... books." He gestured around them, and Freed smiled.

"Thanks, Bix," they said softly, scrubbing their face. They bent down and picked up their phone, about to tuck it into their pocket when they saw a notification from the group. "I'm good now. You can go back to work if you need to."

"You sure? We can leave early if you'd like." Bix was finished in a few hours and Ever was going to pick them up afterwards.

"No, I'm alright. Thank you." Bix squeezed Freed's arm gently, then grabbed his cane and headed back out into the main area.

Freed glanced down at their phone and swiped the notification – it was a private message.

#PM
greasedlightning . 5m
Hey. I don't normally talk to strangers on the internet but I found out about this app from another kid at one of my dad's crazy-ass church conventions and it's nice to see other people who know what I'm going through. Your parents sound like assholes, I'm really sorry. I didn't even think those camps were a thing anymore. You're really brave to have left. I'm seriously considering leaving at our next stop. Part of me thinks my dad wouldn't care, the other part worries he'd come after me. Anyway, I hope you're feeling okay.

Freed smiled, feeling a sensation of kinship warm their chest. They immediately started to type out a reply.

runique . now
Hey too you, too. I'm actually not feeling great. I just tried to call my mom and she pretended she didn't know who I was and told me not to call again. It was so scary to leave. I hitchhiked all the way from Wisconsin – I'd never even been to Canada before. I found somebody to stay with though so I'm pretty lucky. Part of me is glad my parents aren't coming after me, and part of me wishes they had. I'm sorry your dad is so difficult. My dad is also fairly high up in the commune where I was living but I never had to travel with him, just church every week. It was always hard though because I never felt like I belonged. I don't really know what I'm going to do now, but I'm glad that at least someone understands what it's like.

Freed relaxed back into the chair, setting the phone down on the armrest. It felt strange to talk to somebody else about what was going on. The conversation with their mother still stung, but Freed decided to push it aside for now, and pulled their book out of their backpack. They got a few pages into it when their phone pinged again.

greasedlightning . now
A commune? That's crazy. My dad took me out of school a few years ago to travel and "spread the word" which is bullshit. He's just kinda... let's just say he's not a nice guy when he's angry. It's hard to spend every day, all day with him. I honestly don't know why I'm telling you this, I never talk to anyone about my dad. I just wanna leave really badly but I don't know where I'd go. I hope that wherever you are, you're safe. I can't believe you came all the way from the US, that's crazy. And I'm really sorry about your mom. My mom died when I was little but I still sort of remember her. My dad just isn't the same. Anyway, I'm glad you're safe. Feel free to message me anytime you need to talk. : )

Freed blinked at the message. As hesitant as they had been to talk to strangers, this person didn't seem so bad. Maybe it would be good to talk to somebody who knew what they were going through. As Freed was contemplating it, another message popped up.

greasedlightning . now
Also I know you shouldn't tell people on the internet your real name but I just feel like I can trust you for some reason. And it would be stupid for you to think of me as 'greasedlightning'. So, 'runique', it's nice to meet you. My name is Laxus.