A dull thud filled the kitchen as I hung the phone back on the wall. I knew this would happen at some point but I had refused to dwell on it, well, my mother had refused to let me dwell on it. If I had, my fear of him would surely have devoured me from the inside out. I sat down on the cold tiles recognizing the feeling that wrapped itself around me. The closer I was to the floor the less it would hurt if I passed out, something I had learnt from experience. I let a melody flow through my head, allowing it to consume every thought, refusing to think of anything else. I knew this would save me, or at the very least my sanity; as it had hundreds of times before.

The melody stopped when I felt fingers brush my cheek, I didn't pull away as I recognised the softness of my mother's hand. For as long as I lived it would be something that I would associate with her, as weird as that may sound. She was a nurse, and therefore almost constantly moisturised her hands. I asked her about it once and she said she'd never want to be remembered by a patient for having dry skin. Her fingers lifting my chin brought me from my thoughts, and I silently watched her sit down in front of me. "Sweetheart, what's wrong?" I opened my mouth only to close it again a second later. "Milena, I can't do anything unless you tell me what's the matter. Please talk to me." I looked in her eyes and saw the same concern I'd seen countless times in the last thirteen years. Concern that quickly had words pouring out of my mouth. "They're releasing him. She said something about parole and good behaviour and they're releasing him."
"Did they say when?" Her voice came out like a whisper as she tucked my hair behind my ear. "Next week. Tuesday, she said Tuesday." I looked away as the fear started to crawl its way back up my throat. "Hey, look at me sweetheart." I kept my gaze glued to the floor. "Please?" I did as I was told, still unable to refuse her even at twenty-two years old. "I know that you're scared and you have every right to be Milena, but we both knew this was going to happen at some point. And yes, this is a few years earlier than expected, but even though he's out he can't come anywhere near you, if he does he goes straight back to prison and he'll never get out again. And you know I would never ever let anything happen to you, I would die before I let that man put his hands on you a second time." I nodded my head, unable to form any words. "Now come on, let's get you to bed, it's late." She stood, holding out her hand for me to take, wiggling her fingers as encouragement. It wasn't until then that I noticed the numbness in my legs, or the darkness outside. Once again, I'd wasted hours stuck inside my own head because of him.

I used my foot to push the porch swing back and forth, the rocking sensation always had a way of soothing me, and I needed soothing. After my second nightmare made me physically sick I'd given up on sleep. I couldn't bear to be in that room again, to hear his voice again. It didn't matter that it wasn't real it was terrifying all the same. Just the memory had me clutching Eeyore tighter to my chest. I know, I know clinging onto a cuddly toy at twenty-two years old thinking it would make everything better was beyond ridiculous, but he had always brought me comfort. Ever since my mother had given him to me on my first night with her, telling me the tighter I held him the safer I would be. Granted after 13 years he was well past ratty and worn out, but I loved him all the same.

I couldn't say how long I'd been out there when mum sat down beside me. We sat in silence for the longest time until she placed an envelope into my lap. "What's this?" I said turning to her. "Why don't you open it Sweetheart? That will probably help." Hearing her sarcasm had a smile tugging at my lips. "Come on, open it!" I tore the envelope open and found a check between my fingers. A check for 300 hundred dollars! "Mum! What the hell is this?!" I looked at her in disbelief only to see her grinning at me. "You've been saving to go to Italy for as long as I can remember, I mean you've spent the last three years studying the language for your degree, I just wanted to help get you there." I looked from my mum, to the check and back again. "But this is too much, way too much. I can wait Mum. Save the money myself, I don't need to go right now. I don't need to run away." She grabbed my hand then. "I know you don't. And that's not what this is, when have I ever encouraged you to run from something?" When I didn't reply she squeezed my fingers, requesting my answer. "Never." I whispered. "But…"
"But nothing." Her words where firm, intent on getting her point across. "I'm not telling you to run Milena. I know that him being released is the worst thing you can imagine, right now all you see in front of you is a huge negative. I want you to see a positive. I want you to do something positive and what's more positive than doing something you've always dreamed of? If I can help you do that then you can be damn sure that that's what I'm going to do. Okay?" My eyes burned with unshed tears as I nodded my head. "Okay."
"Good, now go and get dressed. I'll make breakfast and then we can look at flights!"