*Warning: This chapter contains mention/reference to sexual abuse.

I dreamed that I was at home. Everything was bright, the room, the mood, the atmosphere. Ma was dancing around, flowers in her hair and looking beautiful like she always was. I saw Andrew standing there with his girlfriend and Vern and Teddy were off in the distance. I saw Gordie and Chris talking amongst themselves, laughing merrily at some points.

Suddenly, Chris looked up at me and caught my gaze, some kind of sparkle in his eyes. He left Gordie and walked over to me, taking my hands in his. We began slow dancing in a circle, giggling and tripping over each other. He stopped abruptly and looked at me. He opened his mouth to say something, but then his face distorted into something more horrible.

My father.

I didn't finish the dream. I ended up jerking myself awake. I lay there confused and wondering where I was before I remembered that we were somewhere in Harlow with a screaming bobcat wondering around.

I sat up and rubbed sleep out of my eyes.

"Rosie," a voice whispered through the dark. I turned around to see Chris was wide awake, looking at me with concern in his eyes. "You okay?"

"Yeah," I said. "I had a bad dream."

"Was it your dad?" he asked. "I heard you mumbling his name."

"Yeah," I nodded, turning my head to stare down at the end of my bedroll.

"Who's shift is it?" I asked.

"Mine," he said. "I just started."

"Can I come over?" I whispered, afraid of anyone but him hearing me. He smiled at me and patted the spot next to him. I moved over to him, getting resettled next to him.

"You sure you're okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said. I laid down and cuddled into my sleeping bag, my head leaning against Chris's leg as he sat against a tree.

"What happened with your dad?" Chris asked, his voice thin and airy.

I sighed, knowing I couldn't keep being secretive about it. I sat up and leaned against his shoulder.

"I-I don't really know where to begin," I admitted. "It started with one of his fits of rage, you know. At first, it was just throwing things, but I walked in through the door at the wrong time.

"He grabbed my wrist pretty hard, I thought he might have broken it. It was only bruised, but...but he did a lot worse. There's so much more to it, I-" I could feel the tears coming on. "I had so many bruises. It was so horrible."

"He was just angry? Like he hit you and stuff?"

"No, not just that," I admitted. "He...he touched me, Chris." I didn't elaborate on what I meant, but Chris knew what I was talking about as soon as I said it.

"That fucking bastard," he said coldly, his voice cracking. "I oughtta kill 'im."

"Don't," I said firmly. "It's not worth it."

"Not worth-" Chris' voice cracked again. "You think you deserve that shit? Getting...getting r-"

"No, don't say it," I said quickly. "Please."

He went silent. I closed my eyes to try and get more rest.

"You don't deserve it," he said. I opened my eyes and stared up at him. "I'm sorry you went through that. If...if I'd have known, I-"

"Chris," I said firmly. "It wasn't your fault."

"But, If I only knew what he had done to you...I would never have left when I went to check up on you. I should have climbed in through your window and taken you, I-"

"Chris." My voice was so quiet, I was afraid he didn't hear me at first. "It's okay. I'm okay now."

He sighed and smiled sadly down at me. He picked up a piece of my hair and pulled a bit of a leaf from it. I closed my eyes again.

It was only about twenty minutes later when Chris woke me back up.

"Sorry," he said. "Your turn for watch." I yawned and sat up, taking the gun from him.

"Mmkay," I mumbled sleepily. He gave me some sort of look that I couldn't describe, but it was so quick and so dark that I couldn't tell if I had imagined it. He walked over to the fire and poked at it a little, then sat down and crawled into his sleeping bag.

As I sat against the tree, I thought back on everything. Mostly on what Chris had said on how I had changed a lot since everything had gone down with my dad. I couldn't say he was wrong because he wasn't. Even I knew I had changed.

I looked down at the dog tags around my neck and picked them up. I should have thrown them over the trestle when we were crossing the Castle River. I dropped the tags, the metal making a clinking sound as they smacked against each other.

I did watch for about forty-five minutes before waking up a reluctant Teddy. I walked back down to the fire and crawled into my sleeping bag. I fell asleep almost immediately, not waking up again until the train rolled past at about seven in the morning.

We all got up and packed up our stuff, making sure the fire was out before we were on our way again.