It was the worst of times, it was the best of the worst of times. Anger, loss, fear, doubt. Horrible and comforting.

It was also dark, very quiet, and very wet. Eddies of bloody water curled away from her nostrils. It's hard to know which direction is up when underwater, but with no buoyancy left in her water logged body the concrete base of the pool could be felt at her back.

Using her palms for grip she pulled her body along the concrete and through the water until her hands reached steps and a rail. Pushing up the edge of pool cover she stepped back up into the air and vomited the water from her lungs onto the grass.

"Fuuuck! I fucking hate them!", frustrated she started to cry, and laugh because she was crying. "I didn't realize I would miss this feeling. Anger sure is a powerful force."

Her small house was not as she had left it. Power disconnected, water mains turned off. Most of the good furniture missing. She walked into the basement, a pile of her old unwashed clothes waited for a cleaning they never got.

She pulled on jeans and a sweater, sat on the bottom of the stairs and lay back not caring that her wet hair was getting covered in plaster dust and cobwebs.

"I need to get stronger if I am going to stop him."