I shiver slightly, the wind cold enough to cut through the light jacket I had grabbed in a hurry, but not cold enough to be freezing.  The hard bark of the tree I’m leaning against scratches the bruises covering my back.  But I can’t move; it’s almost as if this is the home that I’ve been waiting for.
After a week of limping and running and crying, traveling on foot across the state, I finally find myself here: sitting against a tree in a park, in a small town on a cloudy, chilly day. Not very many people are out, even though it’s around one in the afternoon. People are either at work or at school. And then there was me. The outsider who didn’t belong in a place like this, but wanted nothing more to just feel like I’m at home.  I sigh slightly and lean my head against the tree trunk, my eyes closing of their own accord, letting the memories of the past consume me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~
I stiffen a bit as strong arms wrap around my waist and pull me against a warm chest.  I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself as I place shaking hands over John’s.  I force an easy smile to flutter across my lips.  Turning in his arms, I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling myself close to him.
To anyone on the outside looking in, we could just be a normal couple standing in our perfectly normal kitchen doing perfectly normal things.  But we’re not perfectly normal.  We never will be again, but sometimes it’s easier to act than it is to actually feel.
“You’re home early,” I say lightly, pressing my lips to his cheek before pulling away.  He smiles, oblivious to my fears.
“Yeah,” John says, “Steve let me go home early today. Said I needed a break.” He drops his arms and turns, shedding his sports coat and throwing it casually onto the back of a chair. 
“That’s good,” I say, my heart pounding a little faster.  I step around him and frown, heading toward the fridge.
Before I could reach the gray mass of goodness, John asks, “What are you making for dinner?” He takes a deep breath of air, almost sniffing and I freeze. Turning, I look at him, my eyes pleading as I rub my hands over my jeans, drying up the sweat that had formed there.
“I… Um… Haven’t started anything?” I say this more like a question.  My heart pounds hard enough that I thought it might pound out of my chest.
“You haven’t what?” John turns to me, his eyes hard and cold. His demeanor changed from calm to furious in a matter of seconds. “What have I told you?! I want dinner at least started when I get home!” I flinch away from him, backing against the refrigerator. 
“I was thin-“My words are cut off by a sharp slap across the cheek.  I cry out, covering the now red spot with my hands, shrinking down against the cool metal.
“I don’t care!  You know the rules!”
I whimper, not able to answer, fear clogging my throat.  It was going to be a long night…

~~~~~~
It was a long night.  Too long and the marks covering my body are proof of that.  My eyes are still closed but I suddenly feel my arm warm up considerably.  I shift away, instantly missing the heat, but still.  The physical and emotional wounds are still fresh.
“Easy there,” a deep, calming male voice says.  I open my eyes and look over at him, the source of that amazing heat I had just felt.  I’m instantly captured by the greenest eyes to ever be seen on a human being.  “I’m not gonna hurt you.”  I believed him.  He wasn’t John.  Not all men were John, yet I can’t help it.  As much as I want to lean against him and cuddle the warmth out of him and into me, I can’t.
“Who are you?” I ask, my voice rough mainly from dehydration but also from not speaking in a few days.  He gives me a warm smile, the dimples in his cheeks softening his hard looking face.
“I am Noah.  Noah Winterfeild.” His smile deepens.  “Such an unfortunate name, I know, but still.  It’s nice when winter hits and everyone thinks that you’re the cause of it.”  He looks out over the mainly empty park.  “Who are you?”  I look away from him, dropping my eyes.  I couldn’t tell him the truth.  I couldn’t tell him who I really was because if I did, John could find me.  So I just tell him the first name that comes to mind.
“Samantha. Just call me Sam though.”