A breath of steam trickles out, filled with the sobs of a grown woman breaking into girl-sized pieces.

IT happened. There is no avoiding it, no forgetting. No running away, or flying, or burying, or hiding.

I showed her how I'd been making tiny cuts in my skin to let the badness and the pain leak out. They were shallow at first, and short, like claw marks made by a desperate cat that wanted to hid under the front porch. Cutting pain was a different flavor of hurt. It made it easier not to think about having my body and my family and my life stolen, made it easier not to care.

This is wonderful, wonderful! Be the bird. You are the bird. Sacrifice yourself to abandoned family values.

I am beginning to measure myself in strength, not pounds. Sometimes in smiles.

There's no point in asking why, even though everybody will. I know why. The harder question is "why not?" I can't believe she ran out of answers before I did.

I understood what triggered her earthquakes, most of them.