Day 120.

Within seconds, she was where the action was headed - the kitchen. The kid went in first and ran around the huge island. The dog followed, Honey Bear still in its grasp. As she came to the threshold, she stopped at the sight of a women behind the huge island. She was wearing an apron covered in what liked like flour and was clearly frazzled and frustrated at the hubbub going on around her. 

"Stop that! Stop running! Get out of the kitchen! I'm trying to work! Go!" At that, the woman pointed back to where they all came from. That's when she realizd that she had and extra guest. "Anne!", she shouted. "You're up! Please come in. Sit. Breakfast is almost ready. "

Thoughtfully, Anne sat down at the other side of the island. She still didn't quite know what to make of everything, and where did that stupid dog go with Honey Bear? 

The woman continued with her cooking. She kept chopping and mixing and going back and forth to the refrigerator for more things to chop and mix. All the while, she kept looking at Anne, almost as if she wanted to say something, but she never did. 

Day 119.

A dog ran in front of her, away from the sounds of the dishes. It was immediately followed by a little kid. She had no idea if it was a boy or a girl. The kid did not lose focus on the dog, just ran at full speed after it. After the kid passed, she asked Honey Bear, "Where the hell are we? This sure ain't rehab."

She peeked around the corner in the direction of the chase in time to see them both headed back in her direction. Only this time, the dog was chasing the kid. She reeled back at the excitement, lost her balance and fell back on the step. Honey Bear dropped to the floor. The dog, not missing a beat, grabbed him in his mouth and kept on running. She gasped, scrambled to her feet and joined the chase. 

Day 118.

When she came down the stairs, she wasn't completely sure she knew what to expect. Her feet were bare, and the carpet squished between her toes. It was like walking on air, or the beach. Eventually, she got to the last step and took a breath before stepping onto the floor. She looked around and didn't see anyone. The house was beautiful. She hadn't noticed it yesterday. She was too lost in her own world, angry and confused, to see anything. Now that she had a good night's sleep, a shower, and fresh clothes, she could finally take a look around. Everything was new and clean and in it's place. She felt like a trespasser and like a bull in a China shop, afraid to touch anything or even to make a sound. Other than the random, subtle clang of a dish every so often, the house was in absolute silence. She'd been so used to living among the clatter of the city streets that it was unsettling and calming at the same time.

Day 117.

As soon a she owned the door, she smelled something wonderful. She hadn't smelled anything like that for as long a she could remember. It was a far cry from the urine, garbage and sewer smell she'd been surrounded by just yesterday. She never realized how putrid that odor was until this moment.

Day 116.

She grabbed Honey Bear and went toward the door. She thought she was ready to go downstairs until she had her hand on the doorknob. She froze, not sure what waited for her on the other side. She thought about turning around, leaving through the window and not dealing with it at all. She looked back at the window then down at Honey Bear. He just looked at her with his stupid black eyes, but she knew what he wanted to say.  "Stay. It'll be better." But if she did, she'd have to be normal. She'd have to talk. People were always wanting her to talk. She never wanted to. She wanted to be left alone. 

She looked at the doorknob, closed her eyes, took a few deep breaths and turned the knob. She looked down at the bear as the door slid open. "OK, Honey. Here we go."

Day 115.

Clean. Fresh clothes. Not her style. She imagined they belonged to someone else once. They seemed a bit outdated and mismatched, but they fit (mostly) anyway. She couldn't really expect much more. She already felt that these people were being way too generous and kind to her. They must want something. For right now, she would try to enjoy the shower, the clothes, and the bed. Lord knows it's been months since she slept in an actual bed. That's only if a cot in the middle of a shelter could be considered a bed.

Day 114.

The steam filled the room as she climbed into the shower. When was the last time she'd taken a shower? Maybe the bear knew, but he wasn't saying anything. 

With her eyes closed, she must've stood there for 5 minutes letting the water wash over her body, from her hair down to her toes. Finally she realized she should probably use some soap and shampoo and conditioner. Yes. Definitely conditioner. Maybe she'd be able to get this brush out of her hair. 

Day 113.

She sat at the edge of the bed and reached to grab the bear. Honey. Its name was Honey. Honey Bear. It was almost too much to think she had given it such a sweet name once upon a time. If she had named it in the last year or two, it would probably have been something like Grizzly or Fucker or maybe even Huggy. But, he was named years ago. And here she sat naked with Honey Bear on her lap, the layers of filthy clothes she'd been living in over flowing the small trash can next to the dresser and her hair a rat's nest with the brush entangled in a snarl. She looked at Honey Bear who never seemed to judge her. "Somehow, we made it through. Me & you."

Day 112.

Now, here she was. In this house she'd never seen before, looking around this room she'd never been in. Her bear was sitting on the bed, watching her. Even though this was the most comfortable place she'd been in in years, the bear still made her feel at ease. It reminded her of better times. Times that she couldn't remember anything about other than clean clothes, a warm bed and the bear.

Day 111.

Someone found her curled up in the corner of an alley. She was sleeping on a piece of cardboard and holding onto the one possession she never sold. A stuffed bear someone had given her for her birthday one year. It had been years since she remembered which birthday or who gave it to her. Even so, it seemed to mean something to her and gave her a sort of comfort. Besides, she found it wasn't really worth anything in the pawn shops.

Day 110.

She ran a comb through her hair, well tried to anyway.  Was it really that long since she'd done that? She was barely able to move it an inch before she couldn't pull it any further without ripping out a chunk of her scalp. 

The reflection she saw in the mirror didn't look like her own. Somehow she knew it was, but it was someone else, too. This shadow that was staring back at her had some of the features she used to have, but they were wrong. Twisted. Deformed. Broken.

Each layer of clothing she removed told its own story.  Each stain. Each tear. Each odor. As she threw the pieces in the trash, she tried to remember how she had come to wear them, but all she could remember was that bad things had happened when she had them on.

Day 109.

Would you walk along the beach with me if I asked? 

Even on a cloudy day? 

Day 108.

I took your pale hand 

in the warm grasp of my own.

You shivered, then stopped.

Day 107.

The veil hangs heavy,

obscuring the dark beneath 

revealed by a breeze. 

Day 106.

It's in the eyes, really. 

The calm that hits.

The storms that flash. 

All the lightening at once revealed 

in those quarter inch orbs.

The smiles that your lips never show 

portrayed by the slight upturn of your lids.

The fire of passion your body can't express,

flames behind the green. 

The once turbulent waters of the sea, 

placid in the blue. 

The words you can't bring yourself to say 

depicted in the black of your iris.

Day 105.

TOMORROW WILL BE THE DAY. 

Tomorrow Will Be The Day.

Tomorrow will be the day.

tomorrow will be the

tomorrow will be

tomorrow will

tomorrow. 

Day 104.

With the rain falling 

    you feel almost clean. 

The film is washed away. 

The grime pooling in a 

    puddle beneath your feet. 

You see reflections that 

    only you know are there. 

They stare back at you 

    with a smirk. 

They are only kept there 

    until the rain stops.

You look up into the rain. 

The drops fall harder and faster, 

    almost painful across your face. 

Your eyes want to close. 

Just before you melt away, 

    the deluge ends.

The sun unmasks itself 

    from behind the clouds.

You feel them inching up your legs. 

There is nothing you can do 

    but be. 

You once again feel 

    the heavy veil that had been 

                                     washed away. 

Day 103.

There's sadness in there. 

And anger. 

Disillusionment.

Desperation.

Is that help you're longing for? 

Or distance? 

Do you know? 

Day 102.

I ran unchained.
I knew the limits.
There was freedom.

Day 101

It surrounds you 

encompasses always your thoughts 

seeps in through your pores 

oozes into your veins 

flows through your body 

forces its way into your marrow. 

It controls you 

holds your feet in their spot 

ties your arms behind your back 

pries open your eyes 

twists your stomach 

squeezes your heart.