Rain soaks the sky, and drips down onto what is left of me. I just have to wait out the storm, and as long as the alleyway doesn't flood, me and Cat will be safe. For a time, at least.

I try not to think of the stucco sided house that used to shelter us. I don't want to remember the warm den where the television droned for hours. Or the hot shower that I miss most of all. I try hard not to think of the bright yellow kitchen, where good food filled the fridge. I try not to remember the fists of rage and hate. Or my futile attempts to just stop. I cringe with guilt inside my mind. I'm here to be punished. To save myself. And her. Things happen for a reason. I am not God, so I have no plan. I just am.

I try to be grateful for each breath I steal, and I try to be comforted by Cat's presence. Her sweet face and soft purr tells me she's happy, but she doesn't know of dire situations.

I listen to the rain, and hear the thunder--or was that my stomach? I sigh ... it's of no consequence. I'm helpless in my new world, and sit tight. I quell the urge to run; after all, I've come two-hundred miles. Time to stop for awhile.

As the dark creeps into the alley, whiskers touch my chin. My dear Cat must go to find another way, and she kisses me 'good-bye'. I don't want her to leave. But she slips away, and disappears into the mist. I pray she'll return. But this isn't our house with four walls ... so I listen to the rhythm of the falling rain ... and try not to breathe out loud.