"Are you sure you have everything?" The officer stood on the sidewalk, his arms crossed over his thick chest as he watched me drag the last duffle bag full of my clothes down the steps of my apartment building. I tossed the bag down into the snow and fumbled to get the keys out of my pocket.

"Yeah, just these three bags."

"Son, I can't keep coming out here every time you get into a fight with your boyfriend."

"No, this is it. I'm not coming back." I took the apartment key off my key ring and handed it to the officer. "Thanks for waiting with me," I said.

"I hate to see domestic violence," was what he said, but the unfinished sentiment was "even if it is between fags."

"Just the same, I appreciate it."

"Your cab is here," he nodded his shaved head and mirrored glasses towards the car that slowed to a careful stop in the slush. The boot of the car popped open and a friendly older man hopped out and began to scoop up my bags from the curb.

"Take this kid to the airport, okay?" The cabby nodded to the officer and then smiled at me. I didn't bother to look back at the apartment building as we drove away. I knew he would be watching me, all blond hair and sharp blue eyes. He ignored me as I packed my things and refused to speak while the officer was in the apartment, but I knew he wouldn't be able to resist watching me go.

He didn't think I'd do it, I thought as we drove in silence to the airport. He probably still thought I would come back. Maybe not today, but before the weekend was out, he expected me to slink back home and endure whatever punishment he invented for me. What he didn't know was something inside of me had broken and I no longer felt a stifling panic at the thought of being without him. What I felt was relief. Numb, but sweet and beautiful relief.

"Are you alright?" the driver asked. I looked up to see he was watching me in the rearview mirror. My face was still half covered by bandages and I knew I looked like living death.

"Yeah," I managed, still amazed I could sink into this new numbness and not feel anything at all.

"You look like you've been through hell."

What can you say to a comment like that? Rather than respond I merely fixed my good eye out the window and watched the winter landscape speed past until the car pulled up at the terminal.

"Safe travels," the driver said as he set my bags down on the curb. I tried to hand him money but he insisted the ride was already taken care of. So, I stood at the entrance of Montreal-Trudeau with travelers moving past me like water around a rock sat stubbornly in a stream. The world was still spinning. The clock was still ticking. You need to check in and get on a plane, Ciel.

I shook myself and picked up my things, squaring my shoulders and setting boots to the pavement with purpose.

…

"Ciel, the American!" my aunt exclaimed as I finally emerged from customs at Logan Airport. Her hair was offensively red, as was her wool jacket, but she smelled like Chanel as she pulled me into her arms and crushed my face to her chest.

"Christ woman, can't you see I'm injured?"

"Yes, my grim child, I know. I have already booked you with my plastic surgeon for Monday morning. Don't worry. You have your father's handsome face and your mother's good genes, you'll be just fine. Just fine!"

Somehow, Aunt Ann managed to get me and my belongings into her BMW and we were racing through the outskirts of Boston. It was dark and she drove like her ass was on fire. The tiny flecks of early snow that bounced off the windscreen reminded me of stars.

"I'm really glad you decided to come here, Ciel. I've missed you. I worried."

"I know."

"Since your parents…" the rest of the sentence hung in the air much like the officer's comment earlier that afternoon.

"Since they died," I finished for her.

"Yes." She went quiet for the rest of the journey and said very little even as we arrived at her townhouse some 45 minutes later.

"Darling, Grell will help with your bags if you want to go inside and make yourself comfortable. I'm sure you're exhausted."

I had nearly forgotten about Grell, my Aunt's partner.

Aunt Ann had been married before I was born but her husband had died. From what I remember my mother saying, Aunt Ann was different then, a young med student, a homemaker, the kind of aunt who insisted on having everyone from the extended family to her house every Christmas. Then her husband died and she threw everything into her career. Understandable to me as she had now become the leading OB-GYN specialist in the northeast, but she was strange.

Aside from her affinity for the color red, Aunt Ann also had a penchant for luxury items. Everything from her handbags and shoes to her iPhone case and dog leash were either Burberry or Aquascutum and her townhouse was no different. I wasn't unfamiliar with the lifestyle she enjoyed, my parents had money and left me with a trust when they passed, but it didn't hold the same interest for me it seemed to for my aunt.

In addition to her other designer belongings was Grell, her live-in boyfriend, or partner, or arm candy. I was never sure what term to use as her description of the man was constantly changing. All I could say for sure was he had yet to earn the title of husband and it didn't seem like he ever would.

Grell greeted us at the door, giving my aunt a wide smile and bending to pull me into a hug. He was tall and thin, impeccably dressed with long, auburn hair pulled back in a low ponytail. He would have been perfectly at ease at an art gallery or maybe teaching a lit class at the local college, but here he was haunting the foyer of this plush townhouse instead. Strange and overly friendly, but pleasant enough. I couldn't really complain when I had been welcomed into their home.

My bags spread out on my new temporary bed, I looked at the extent of my belongings, comfortingly black against the clean neutral colors of the room. Somehow my entire life had been distilled down to fit into this small room in the space of one afternoon.

There was a soft knock at the door and then my aunt's perfectly made-up peeked through the doorway.

"Do you have everything you need, darling?"

"Yes, I think so."

She looked at my face carefully with a slight frown. "Are you in any pain?"

"A bit. But I'll be fine."

A few graceful steps and she sat down beside me on the bed. "Would you let me take a look?" She meant the bandage. The horrible ruin that was behind it. I didn't say anything but felt my stomach go cold as though it was suddenly full of ice water.

"I understand." She had a weak smile on her ruby lips, her voice was soft. "Can I ask...is the eye still there?"

"Yes. But it's ruined."

"You'll make it through this, darling. I know it probably doesn't seem that way right now, but you will come through just fine. And in the meantime, anything you need, just ask."

I wanted to say something to acknowledge the kindness she had extended, but I couldn't seem to get my mouth to form the words. I merely stared at her as she stared back at me, her eyes traveling back and forth across my face, trying to read my expression, or maybe my mind. Or maybe she was just imagining the damaged flesh that was hidden from her curiosity by the layers of white gauze. Whatever it was, she stopped finally and left me to the quiet of my room, surrounded by black clothing, a handful of books and my laptop. I don't know how long I sat, or what time it was when exhaustion finally claimed me, but it was the scent of coffee brewing and bacon frying that roused me again once daylight had filled the small room.

Somehow I had survived the first night of my new life.