(Jessie POV) A departure.

Jessie laid in her bed staring at the ceiling. Minutes ago, she’d been savoring the blissful warmth of the man she was falling in love with and considering—with wonderful anticipation—where things were headed between them next. Then things had gone horribly wrong and he’d turned his back on her pleas.

Up to that point, it amazed her that he’d managed to keep putting her higher and higher on a pedestal, but she now she knew that pedestal was made of straw. A decoy he’d made to distract himself from thinking about all of the dirty things she’d been sullied by. Maybe it was easier to ignore that she was damaged goods when he thought it was a stranger in the distant past who’d had his way with her. Surely he'd never be able to bring himself to touch her again, knowing how often and how recently she'd been used.

That’s not true! her mind yelled at her. My Leon is a good boy! He wouldn’t leave me for a reason like that... I know he wouldn’t. If only he'd stayed to talk things out with me instead of leaving... but can I really blame him for running from a mess like me?

Mom gave birth to me so that Dad could have a new toy to play with, and that’s all I’ll ever be if I stay here. A filthy toy for his filthy pleasure. Even if Leon managed to save me, I’m just not worth the effort. I'd still be the same battered and broken girl who couldn't give him the commitment he deserves. I joked about running away and becoming a nun once--not that I'd ever make it as a nun with the things I've been through--but maybe it’s time I did run away. If I save myself instead of waiting around for Leon, then he won’t have to worry about me anymore, and he can live a happy, Jessie-less life with someone else. Like Ophelia.

“I want you to be with me, not her...” she whispered up at the impassive ceiling.

Ophelia won’t hurt him the way I do.

It was time. If she stayed, she’d let him rescue her and she’d be too selfish to give him up. This was the night she was finally going to run away. She dug through her magical drawer of everyday necessities until she found the spiral notebook she was hunting for. She tore a piece of paper out of it and wrote him a long goodbye. Even in her farewell, she couldn’t let herself say she loved him. It wouldn’t be fair, and it might make him look for her harder.

Tears were poised to start falling again, and she fought hard to **** them back. She hated crying, because it was exactly what her dad wanted. Gross satisfaction always crept into his face when he managed to squeeze those salty droplets from her eyes. After everything he’d ruined, the only feeble resistance she could manage was trying her best not to cry.

She couldn't manage it this time. Tears streamed down her face as she finished the letter and left it on her desk. Then she put her cellphone in the drawer and closed it so that she wouldn't be tempted to text him. She continued to cry as she got dressed in a hoodie and sweats, put her laptop and some clothes in a beach bag, and stood once more in front of her bed.

She’d been **** there, but she never had the heart to tell him.

In some parallel universe, there’s a version of us still in that bed. In a universe where there’s no awful truth to be shared, and I’m not a victim. Where Jessie Marshall can love Leon Marshall for all she’s worth, and fight tooth and nail to be with him forever. That version of us would get married and spend the rest of our days cuddling in hammocks and falling asleep in each other’s arms. Teasing and laughing, kissing and touching... living and loving.

But that person wasn’t her, and it was time to go.

Out in the hall, Jessie ran into her mom. They stopped and stared at one another. Holly looked tired like she always did, and Jessie was in the middle of crying her eyes out. Her mom didn’t ask her what was wrong. Probably thought she already knew.

Holly screwed her lips into a conflicted smile and said, “Thank god,” when she realized what the bag of clothes signified. Jessie knew what she meant. Her mom was glad she was escaping, not happy that she was leaving.

It felt like she should say something back, but she couldn’t find the words. This woman had watched her suffer and never once tried to help her. They were both prisoners of Dad, but Mom chose this prison for herself, then **** Jessie to be born in it.

So she said nothing, and fled down the steps.

Nobody in their family ever crossed the bridge over to the Island, where rich people and tourists partied day and night. Their dad hated tourists and wild parties, and their Mom never went anywhere besides work in the next town over. Leon would never expect a coward like her to hide there, so that’s exactly where she headed.