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Description
The road forked before. It had done this six times before, but I had navigator then. He would tell me which road to take, and he was right every time.

But this time he wasn't there, and he wasn't coming back.

He too had come to a crossroads: stay with me and continue with my crazy, cross-country trip or move on, leaving once and for all. He chose to move on, taking half of my money and all of my tears. He left no clues as to his location, but I didn't know if I wanted him back anyway.

I was at one of life's crossroads as well. I was running: he didn't know this because I never told him. But I was running from some very terrible people. Choosing the right physical road could help lead me to my safe haven in New York City with my parents, but I was stuck.

The map was complicated, and it took me five minutes to get it situated properly over the steering wheel. I then found the road I was on and followed it from the last familiar point, which is where he left me, alone at a highway rest stop. I followed it in the direction I headed in until the road forked.

I had figured out which way to go. Alone.

With a spurt of independence, I knew to follow the road forward, just to make sure. After a hundred miles, it would fork again, and I would head left. Three hundred later, I would take the right fork until finally it would fork towards New York City.

I quickly began on my route, thinking of all the times I had relied on him to pull me out from my funks. He didn't know those stages of depression were from fear not loneliness, but he always helped me see the bright side of things, even when there was no light to create a bright side.

Suddenly, I felt the car shift below me. Something was wrong, and I knew it was major because I could barely control the car. I pulled over and looked over the car's exterior. None of the tires were flat, so I knew to look underneath.

The axel had snapped. I didn't remember hitting any bumps, but I knew that long trips alone could worsen an existing problem. I wasn't surprised about this major setback: I'd tried the journey before I met him, in an attempt to get away, but I never made it out of the state because I miscarried my child. It wasn't his child, but it was the child of my enemy. I was sad to lose it, but I was also happy: no more physical connection to the ones I wanted to run from.

I knew I was done, at least with this car. I was so close, a mere five hundred miles away rather than fifteen hundred. I grabbed my bags and began to walk, my one and only choice at this point.

I was going to get off at the next exit, maybe hunt down a rental company and examine their rates. But I kept going, enjoying my freedom. I passed the next exit as well, and I felt confident that I could keep going, alone in my journey, until I reached the promise land, apartment 4B, the home of my parents.

But I knew something else would happen between now and then. I'd either sprain an ankle, run out of supplies or money, or I'd end up in the ditch because of an idiot driver. But I never expected him to show up, pulling in slowly behind me and finally beside me.

"Why are you walking?" he called over the noise of traffic.

"The axel broke. I had no choice."

"But the car was four exits back. Why are you still walking?"

"I'm enjoying my freedom," I replied. He gave me a strange look.

"You're the one who wanted to make this trip. How are you 'enjoying your freedom'?"

"Don't worry about it," I whispered. He sighed and shook his head. "Why'd you come back?"

"I knew I couldn't leave you completely alone, not until you pass the last crossroad before New York City. So I came back and tried to find you. I was successful," he grinned. I wasn't smiling. "What's wrong? I thought you were enjoying this."

"There's more to this than mere enjoyment," I said sternly, letting the secret slip. He gave me another strange look.

"Come on, get into the car and we'll go for some dinner."

"No! We need to keep going."

"Fine, we'll get some fast food. Just get into the car."

I obeyed, putting my things into the back and hopping into the passenger side. We got off at the next exit and purchased a cheap dinner.

"Now, you need to talk to me. What happened back in Montana that you can't seem to tell me about?" he asked. He wanted to add a funny question after that, but he kept it to himself.

"I was married a few years ago. He was abusive. He raped me almost every night, he beat me, and he made me do things to his friends. One night I ran, packing my bags and hitting the highway. I made it just past the capital when a strong wave of pain hit me. He had gotten me pregnant, and...I lost the baby in the car. I went to a hospital because the bleeding wouldn't stop, and they helped me find a shelter. That's how we met: the house next door to yours was a safe house provided by the company.

"I was terrified to leave there. You didn't know this because I didn't want you to, but...he was only a hundred miles away. He could've found me, and I just...I couldn't go back, not after everything he put me through. So when you wanted to go on vacation, and when my mother asked me to come visit, I knew what I had to do."

"And you don't want to stop in case he's following us?" he asked. I nodded. "Listen to me: I won't let him find you, and I won't let him hurt you. Not all of us are out to get you."

"I know that, but...it's hard to stop running from something you've ran from for years. I can't push him out of my mind. I can't sleep at night because of the things he did to me, and...I can't just stop now. It'd be like giving up, which is what I did in the first place. I gave up my confidence, letting him take over and ravage me. I can't do that again," I whispered. He nodded, taking my hand.

"Let's go to New York and visit your parents. Try to ask them about any real estate they have, and if there's nothing, I'll start looking. I can do my job from anywhere, and you can surely find a position in the city somewhere."

"I can't work: he'll find me."

"Listen to the rest: We'll use the last of our savings to get a restraining order against him, which will help start the divorce process. If they say we can't do it here, I have friends in Montana that I trust with legal issues. I can get pictures for you to show you that they aren't your husband nor his friends. Is that enough, because I'll change that to do anything you want?"

I nodded quietly, throwing my half-full wrapper into the bag. He massaged my hand and kept driving, letting me know I was safe.

My mother didn't have real estate, but her sister did, and we soon moved into a small cottage in upstate New York. He continued his work online while I acquired a position through my aunt's firm. We used our checks to go towards my separation and restraining order, and within three years, I was finally free and safe from him.

I changed my name, mainly because John and I were married, and I really wanted a fresh start. With everything in place, he and I began a great life together that I knew could last forever if it had to.

My abuse always haunted me: John had to be very careful in bed to keep from scaring me, and he often had to comfort me through realistic nightmares of scenes from my past. But he showed me through his actions that the chapters that ruined my life did not end it, and that all men were not created equal. He even coaxed me into sharing my story, and I now visit support groups around the region sharing my story with other abuse victims, many of which were still in their situation. I helped as many as I could: I had to for my own purposes. But some still fell through the cracks, falling victim to unspeakable acts or acts against themselves.

Every year, I light a candle for each of them, and I say a prayer to the survivors. John helps: he keeps a fire extinguisher handy because of the sheer number of candles. I photograph them burning down to their wicks, only to show others how many there actually are that perish because of this issue. I use a different color candle, usually blue, to show the male victims. John volunteers to help those victims, but his business is a lot like mine: you simply can't save everyone. But we try as hard as we can, because if we can fight for ourselves, we can show others how to fight as well.
100 Theme Challenge: 044: Two Roads

Description
The road forked before. It had done this six times before, but I had navigator then. He would tell me which road to take, and he was right every time.

But this time he wasn't there, and he wasn't coming back.

He too had come to a crossroads: stay with me and continue with my crazy, cross-country trip or move on, leaving once and for all. He chose to move on, taking half of my money and all of my tears. He left no clues as to his location, but I didn't know if I wanted him back anyway.

I was at one of life's crossroads as well. I was running: he didn't know this because I never told him. But I was running from some very terrible people. Choosing the right physical road could help lead me to my safe haven in New York City with my parents, but I was stuck.

The map was complicated, and it took me five minutes to get it situated properly over the steering wheel. I then found the road I was on and followed it from the last familiar point, which is where he left me, alone at a highway rest stop. I followed it in the direction I headed in until the road forked.

I had figured out which way to go. Alone.

With a spurt of independence, I knew to follow the road forward, just to make sure. After a hundred miles, it would fork again, and I would head left. Three hundred later, I would take the right fork until finally it would fork towards New York City.

I quickly began on my route, thinking of all the times I had relied on him to pull me out from my funks. He didn't know those stages of depression were from fear not loneliness, but he always helped me see the bright side of things, even when there was no light to create a bright side.

Suddenly, I felt the car shift below me. Something was wrong, and I knew it was major because I could barely control the car. I pulled over and looked over the car's exterior. None of the tires were flat, so I knew to look underneath.

The axel had snapped. I didn't remember hitting any bumps, but I knew that long trips alone could worsen an existing problem. I wasn't surprised about this major setback: I'd tried the journey before I met him, in an attempt to get away, but I never made it out of the state because I miscarried my child. It wasn't his child, but it was the child of my enemy. I was sad to lose it, but I was also happy: no more physical connection to the ones I wanted to run from.

I knew I was done, at least with this car. I was so close, a mere five hundred miles away rather than fifteen hundred. I grabbed my bags and began to walk, my one and only choice at this point.

I was going to get off at the next exit, maybe hunt down a rental company and examine their rates. But I kept going, enjoying my freedom. I passed the next exit as well, and I felt confident that I could keep going, alone in my journey, until I reached the promise land, apartment 4B, the home of my parents.

But I knew something else would happen between now and then. I'd either sprain an ankle, run out of supplies or money, or I'd end up in the ditch because of an idiot driver. But I never expected him to show up, pulling in slowly behind me and finally beside me.

"Why are you walking?" he called over the noise of traffic.

"The axel broke. I had no choice."

"But the car was four exits back. Why are you still walking?"

"I'm enjoying my freedom," I replied. He gave me a strange look.

"You're the one who wanted to make this trip. How are you 'enjoying your freedom'?"

"Don't worry about it," I whispered. He sighed and shook his head. "Why'd you come back?"

"I knew I couldn't leave you completely alone, not until you pass the last crossroad before New York City. So I came back and tried to find you. I was successful," he grinned. I wasn't smiling. "What's wrong? I thought you were enjoying this."

"There's more to this than mere enjoyment," I said sternly, letting the secret slip. He gave me another strange look.

"Come on, get into the car and we'll go for some dinner."

"No! We need to keep going."

"Fine, we'll get some fast food. Just get into the car."

I obeyed, putting my things into the back and hopping into the passenger side. We got off at the next exit and purchased a cheap dinner.

"Now, you need to talk to me. What happened back in Montana that you can't seem to tell me about?" he asked. He wanted to add a funny question after that, but he kept it to himself.

"I was married a few years ago. He was abusive. He raped me almost every night, he beat me, and he made me do things to his friends. One night I ran, packing my bags and hitting the highway. I made it just past the capital when a strong wave of pain hit me. He had gotten me pregnant, and...I lost the baby in the car. I went to a hospital because the bleeding wouldn't stop, and they helped me find a shelter. That's how we met: the house next door to yours was a safe house provided by the company.

"I was terrified to leave there. You didn't know this because I didn't want you to, but...he was only a hundred miles away. He could've found me, and I just...I couldn't go back, not after everything he put me through. So when you wanted to go on vacation, and when my mother asked me to come visit, I knew what I had to do."

"And you don't want to stop in case he's following us?" he asked. I nodded. "Listen to me: I won't let him find you, and I won't let him hurt you. Not all of us are out to get you."

"I know that, but...it's hard to stop running from something you've ran from for years. I can't push him out of my mind. I can't sleep at night because of the things he did to me, and...I can't just stop now. It'd be like giving up, which is what I did in the first place. I gave up my confidence, letting him take over and ravage me. I can't do that again," I whispered. He nodded, taking my hand.

"Let's go to New York and visit your parents. Try to ask them about any real estate they have, and if there's nothing, I'll start looking. I can do my job from anywhere, and you can surely find a position in the city somewhere."

"I can't work: he'll find me."

"Listen to the rest: We'll use the last of our savings to get a restraining order against him, which will help start the divorce process. If they say we can't do it here, I have friends in Montana that I trust with legal issues. I can get pictures for you to show you that they aren't your husband nor his friends. Is that enough, because I'll change that to do anything you want?"

I nodded quietly, throwing my half-full wrapper into the bag. He massaged my hand and kept driving, letting me know I was safe.

My mother didn't have real estate, but her sister did, and we soon moved into a small cottage in upstate New York. He continued his work online while I acquired a position through my aunt's firm. We used our checks to go towards my separation and restraining order, and within three years, I was finally free and safe from him.

I changed my name, mainly because John and I were married, and I really wanted a fresh start. With everything in place, he and I began a great life together that I knew could last forever if it had to.

My abuse always haunted me: John had to be very careful in bed to keep from scaring me, and he often had to comfort me through realistic nightmares of scenes from my past. But he showed me through his actions that the chapters that ruined my life did not end it, and that all men were not created equal. He even coaxed me into sharing my story, and I now visit support groups around the region sharing my story with other abuse victims, many of which were still in their situation. I helped as many as I could: I had to for my own purposes. But some still fell through the cracks, falling victim to unspeakable acts or acts against themselves.

Every year, I light a candle for each of them, and I say a prayer to the survivors. John helps: he keeps a fire extinguisher handy because of the sheer number of candles. I photograph them burning down to their wicks, only to show others how many there actually are that perish because of this issue. I use a different color candle, usually blue, to show the male victims. John volunteers to help those victims, but his business is a lot like mine: you simply can't save everyone. But we try as hard as we can, because if we can fight for ourselves, we can show others how to fight as well.
100 Theme Challenge: 044: Two Roads