She stepped out into the light, blinking owlishly, feeling exposed, naked and raw, like a snake having newly shed it's skin. In some ways that's exactly what she had done. Gone were the walls of the prison which, while they hemmed her in had also made her feel protected. At least inside those walls she knew what to expect. Now she was vulnerable to anything.
Suddenly, she was in doubt. She wanted to turn and flee back into the place she had just left. She looked back and saw nothing but gray walls that seemed to extend forever in all directions. Again she looked toward the light. She had to go forward. Even though she was terribly frightened, felt as if she was no more substantial than a child's play-doh creation, she must continue. She had worked hard for this freedom. She had to trust that this time would be different.
She let herself into the apartment with her new key. It felt heavy enough to be made of lead. Smooth and powerful in her hand. Leaning back against the now closed door, she looked around. To anyone else it might have seemed dingy, dim and spartan. To her, though, it seemed bright and open, compared with where she had spent the last several years. The dusty, worn carpet might have been silk and the chipped formica counters in the kitchen could as easily have been fine marble. It was hers, for now anyway, and she had every intention of hanging onto it. The only other option was to go back, and that she was unwilling to do.
Right now, though, she was exhausted. She pushed away from the door and crossed the unfurnished living room, heading for the bedroom. Partially furnished in this case meant a narrow metal frame bed with a sagging mattress whose ancient springs groaned loudly in protest as she lay herself down. She groaned along with them at the thought of tomorrow. She would need to find a job first off. How to explain where she had been the last few years? Would anyone understand? Then, find the Good Will and see about some furnishings for her new home. Perhaps filling the empty space would make it seem more secure, more real somehow.
As she drifted off to sleep, her last conscious thoughts were more prayer than anything else. That this would get easier, that she would be able to rise to the situation, that the freedom would last.
