Her father never knew, he was never around. When he dropped Kirsa off he spared her the rarest of glances. Sometimes it hurt knowing his was the face ...he saw when she looked in the mirror. And it was because of the truce she and her mother had that no one was aware of the past few years. No one was supposed to know that the scar on her face was a cut from a fight or the one on her hand was from boiling water being poured over her knuckles. The scar she hid underneath her tee-shirt, large and. With a trembling voice she whispered, “Pumpkin?” The cat walked to her, gave her leg a head bump and another “merrrow.” Looking up at her as if to say, “Yes. Who did you expect?” it sat down and began grooming its paw.She knelt to the ground, gentle laying her bundle to her side, and pulled the cat into her arms. “Punky ... how can you be here? You went away. But you are here. What. How...” Her voice tapered off to silence. She buried her face into the soft warm fur of the cat and cried. Cried. More

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