But I can see when the lights start to fade,
The day is done and your smile has gone away,
Let me raise you up, let me be your love

Traumatized doesn't seem to be an adequate word anymore; she jumps at strange noises, sleeps between the couch and the wall when Danny isn't there, refuses to leave the apartment unless one of her boys makes her. Exhaustion has set deep in her bones and she doesn't feel like a day will come when she won't be tired. For the past three weeks she has burnt the candle at both ends with sleep only coming when she passes out face first on the decrepit couch. She wants to sleep, she wants to exist and not be terrified, she wants to not feel like nothing will be right ever again.

Chalky white and blue pills form lines like soldiers in battle prepared to save her, take her away from everything. The pain killers are lined up closest to the edge of the counter with the sleeping pills falling in line behind prepared to take her away. Austin's been wondering for days how many pairs it would take before her eyes drifted close only to never open again. Though she was raised in the Catholic church, Austin has her doubts as to what afterlife may exist and, well, right now she has a beef with God so big that if, by some miracle, she got into heaven then she would give the Big Man so much hell that he would dethrone Satan and give the title to her. She imagines dark, never ending darkness, and that's all she wants. Peace, quiet, freedom.

Her whole body shakes as she lifts the first pill and presses the dusty white capsule to her lips and bile rises in her throat. Slowly, she lowers the pill back to the counter and leans heavily against the sink as she throws up. She can't do this. Her father might have won the battle but, dammit, Austin Grace Hawthorne will win the war. Austin won't let Danny come home that night to find her body prone on the kitchen floor with foam at the mouth and empty pill bottles beside her. She is not that girl. She will not take the easy way out. Barely managing to remain standing, she swiftly returns the pills to their rightful bottles before slipping to the cold tile floor of their small kitchen. Tears once again fall without her permission and she curls into a ball as her body racks with sobs. Nothing about this is okay and now she's not just terrified of her father but of herself.

The door opens awhile later and the smell of tacos finds her before she hears his familiar footfall and keys sliding across the table by the entryway. He finds her in the kitchen still on her knees with arms protectively wrapped around her stomach and eyes puffy red from the crying jag. Without a word, he places the bag of food on the counter and kneels next to her. These days he is careful not to touch her and treats her like fragile china, mostly it's maddening but she's grateful for his respect. His arms open to her and she crawls into his warm embrace as a fresh round of tears dampen the shoulder of his button down shirt.

"I'm not okay, Danny." The words are barely above a whisper and she almost chokes on them.

"You will be." He promises.

Austin shakes her head and cries harder. "I want it to end. All of it. Everything. I want to die because death has to be better than living in fear when someone knocks on the door. He should have just killed me because that would be better than this."

"Stop." Danny's voice is forceful for the first time in a month and his grip on her chin is firm but not brutal as he forces her face up to look at him. "Stop it right now, Austin Grace. I don't want to hear those words out of your mouth ever again."

"Danny." She fights the urge to recoil from his touch. Danny is a good touch. Danny will never be Jack Hawthorne. Danny is good. Danny is love.

"Austin." He stands and yanks her to her feet. "We are not accepting defeat. Do you hear me? Death is not an option because you survived. Baby with all the blood you lost there is no logical reason that you should be here. He kicked your face so hard that you should have lost the sight in your eye if not the whole thing. The shards of glass should have pierced an organ. But they didn't. And you managed to get yourself up off the bloody couch and to the window so I could pull you out. You fought. You may not have physically fought him but you are alive and that means you won. You won, love, and he didn't. He lost. He lost a long time ago when he first hit you because he lost the right to love you. And to love you is the greatest reward."

"Danny, stop." Austin plead.

"No." He pressed his lips firmly against hers and cradled her bruised jaw, his thumb brushing away her falling tears. "I love you, Austin. And I will not live without you."

"I need help." She whispered. "Please, Danny, it's too big for either one of us."

"The doctors gave me a list of therapists that specialize in cases like yours." He held her hand and let her pulse reassure him. "Maybe we should make some phone calls and get you an appointment."

Austin nodded. "Tomorrow?"

He nodded his agreement. "Are you hungry?"

"No." She shook her head. "But I'll eat anyway."

"Good." He grabbed the bag and then her hand, leading her to the couch.

She stopped short and pulled him back to her. Austin stood up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. "I love you, Daniel."

"I love you too."