I found most comfort in visiting the local park right before dawn. 

Its location was perfectly placed so that the sunrise, and all of its beautiful colors, could be properly admired from the swing set. I discovered this treasure one night when I was 12 and forced to sleep outside. 

I found shelter in the small playground and discovered the peace of sunrises at the park.

Twenty years later, I found the same safety sitting on the same swing set. It was far more rusted and worn, but it just added to the aesthetic. I swung for 2 hours 32 minutes and 19 seconds before the first light of the sun began to erupt over the horizon. 

I found it easy to ignore the ache in my ribs and lower back as long as my breathing was kept shallow. My father had kept me home the rest of Saturday, and all of Sunday, to have me "care" for him. 

He made himself very clear when I did something that wasn't perfect to him.

I  snuck out to the park in my work clothes for my early shift at Marianne's Diner that would start in exactly an hour and 27 minutes. I was sure to wrap my ribs and take some extra strength ibuprofen to help me get through the day. After my shift in the diner, I would have an hour to eat dinner, before my shift as a night-maid at the local trashy motel. 

Sighing, I continued to gently swing back and forth, not wanting to think about the weekend's events or the green paint now covering some of my clothing thanks to my father. 

It was going to be a pain to remove.

Soon I was clocking into Marianne's and greeting Billie, the girl who would be working with me for the next 8 hours. 

46 completed tickets later, I was a sweaty mess. My dark hair was falling out of my braid and she could tell it was time for a reapplication of deodorant. After using the diner's restroom as a locker room, and changing into my next uniform, I ordered a BLT and fries with water. 

The best thing about this job is that the manager let the workers have one free meal a shift. I sat in a booth in the back corner, with a window view, to quickly eat. I had 53 minutes until I had to leave to make it on time to the motel.

"Ms. Jeanne! Ms. Jeanne!" 

I heard the voice I easily recognized now as Damiens' yell from the entrance of the diner.

I was mid-bite when the little boy came bouncing up to me grabbing me into a hug. I held in my grimace ,but let out a woosh of air as his arms squeezed my bruised ribs. 

Anthony noticed how her cheeks paled and breath became shallow; he had seen that type of reaction before.

"Damien! What have I said about yelling indoors? And we do not run up to people and hug them without their permission." Anthony scolded.

Damien immediately pulled back, releasing me, and murmured an apology while looking to the floor ashamed. I patted his head and scooted over so he could slide into the booth next to me.

"It's okay Damien, thank you for apologizing. Hello Mr. Houston." I softly said before taking a bite of some fries.

Anthony nodded towards her as he slid into the booth across from the pair. He took Jeanne's distraction with food, and his chattering son, to appraise her. She wore a black dress with a golden tag engraved with her name on the left side of her chest. He assumed it was a uniform for whatever job she worked. 

He wondered if Jeanne was getting off of, or going to, work. Her hair was neatly braided back, no longer greasy, and gently laying over her shoulder. It was the first time he noticed that Jeanne had red highlights in her dark hair when the evening sun hit it through the windows.

Anthony noted that Jeanne's form was still startlingly thin. 

From the way she was devouring the food in front of her, he doubted it was because she starved herself on purpose. Some relief passed through him as he noticed that her arms were clear of any marks or scarring; so she wasn't a drug addict. Possibly. Needles, after all, weren't the only way to get high. 

It was her eyes, that concerned him most of all. 

Jeanne's dark brown pools seemed a million miles away no matter how focused she was on Damien's rants. The bags under them hadn't faded since the first time he saw her. He briefly wondered if Jeanne ever got proper rest. 

Even her smile, faint as it was, seemed exhausted.

I knew Anthony's gaze was on me the entire time. All I could feel were waves of judgment leaving his body. I knew how I looked, how I has always looked, to the public. Shame filled me each time my flaws were verbally or silently acknowledged. 

Anthony noticed the second she zoned out completely and began to mumble what he could now hear clearly were numbers under her breath. 

She vaguely looked at him, then out the window, and her mumbling stopped.

"Oh, I'm late. I have to go. Thank you both, for spending time with me. Again." I rushed out lightly as Damien left the booth so I could get out.

Damien quickly took my place and began to munch on my remaining fries. I waved at the both of them with one of those tired smiles before making my way out of the diner and to my car. 

Anthony watched as she left, wondering when the last time was that anyone cared enough to notice that Jeanne was wasting away. 

A waitress arriving to take their orders brought him out of his thoughts.

It was half-past 1AM when I made it home. I had to be up in less than six hours to get ready for the work cycle to repeat. I hoped, and prayed to a God that never seemed to hear me, that my father had left the house. All I wanted to do was pop some extra strength ibuprofen, shower, and collapse into bed. I silently entered the home and poked my head into the living room. The couch was empty of any body, same for the dining table, bathroom, and my bedroom. 

He had left, at least for now, and hopefully wouldn't be back for a while. 

Maybe he would never return this time and I could live her life in solitude and peace.