Page 38 of Devil’s Snare

I did. My dad used to get rough with my mom when I was little. He drank too much. Almost ended their marriage before he went to counseling, AA meetings, and turned his life around. Still, I saw too much as a child. I swore I’d never allow a man to hurt me.

And then I had an ex a few years ago who roughed me up and put me in the hospital. I pressed charges and helped get Max convicted and behind bars. I liked to think I wasn’t a victim, but a survivor. Like so many of the women here in this shelter.

Ethan and Becka had their own experiences in childhood. We were all survivors. For some reason, Ethan got the worst of it. Maybe that was why he channeled a lot of that trauma into boxing. In the ring, he could conquer those demons. Becka did the same in the military.

“We’ve got a good class today. Ten are signed up.”

Ten? “That’s fantastic.” I usually only had six or seven show up. I loved the idea of a full room. I always packed extra supplies in case anyone else wanted to join us.

“I’ll leave you to it.”

Cary left shortly before the women began arriving. Before I knew it, I had their attention and began describing how to junk journal and how it could be therapeutic. I always talked about how writing down our feelings can help process what we’ve been through, using my own experience with my ex as an example.

Over two hours later, women began to leave with their journals. Some didn’t have many stickers or designs. Others were full of butterflies, flowers, and sparkles. All of them journaled, even if it was only a few words. Powerful ones that reclaimed what had been stolen from them.

With pride, I dismissed the class, excited to hear they wanted to learn more and attend the next one.

Women often cycled through the shelter. Sometimes they had other places to go. Or there weren’t enough beds to keep them long-term. Some of them chose to return to the houses they fled. I didn’t judge any of them. That was a personal choice for every woman who arrived here. Cary met them where they were and offered help, guidance, and a little peace.

“Um, excuse me, Gwen?”

I turned around, noticing only one woman had remained while I started to clean and pack up my supplies. “Hi. Penny, right?”

“Yes.” She glanced at the floor, and I wondered if she was shy.

“Can I help you with anything?”

“I just wanted to say this was nice. I loved making the journal.”

“I’m so glad. I hope you’ll come to the next one.”

She didn’t meet my gaze. “I will if I’m still here.”

My heart went out to her as I wondered about her story. Her truth. Maybe she was still figuring that out, and that was okay. Everyone had their own pace. “It’s lovely to meet you, Penny.”

“I know this is a lot to ask, but,” she faltered and backed up a step like she wasn’t going to finish her sentence.

“It’s okay. Ask me.”

“Could I exchange numbers with you? I just, I could use someone to talk to, and it’s hard here.”

I completely understood. “Of course.” I unlocked my cell and handed it to her.

She typed her contact information in and then returned it to me.

I texted her “hi” with a smiley face emoji. She sent the same thing back.

“Now we’re friends.”

“I like that. Thanks, Gwen.”

She rushed from the room as I smiled. Such a sweet, meek girl. I was happy to exchange numbers. She needed a friend, and I could never have too many.

Cary left the building at the same time I did, and we ended up going to dinner. I sat across from her at a booth while we waited for our meals. It was a fifties-inspired diner with plastic seats and records on the walls. A jukebox played old tunes from the corner. It smelled like French fries and sugary sweet syrup—an odd but not unpleasant combination.

We both ordered shakes and cheeseburgers. She got onion rings while I opted for a side salad.

As we waited for the food, we caught up since it had been a couple of weeks since I’d been to the shelter. I usually stopped by once a week, but since meeting Cin, I’d been extra busy. Not to mention that my online business had picked up and I was packing orders for Dreamweaver Crafts and mailing them out more frequently.