"Roll it around in the breadcrumbs."

I roll my meatballs around like Muriel suggests then wash my hands so I can tackle the next task.

"I like my onions sautéed. Come, stir them like this." She whisks her wooden spoon through the onions cooking in the pan. "We'll make a batch with the works in them, and a blander one for the kids." Her chocolate brown eyes tilt up at the corners when she smiles.

Muriel has been on the run from her ex-boyfriend for the past year. She picked up in the middle of night and ran away with their infant son. One of the services the shelter offers is a haven for those seeking refuge from their abusers. They also offer programs to help women get back on their feet and teach them how to manage their finances so they can support themselves.

Until I'm not able to get around, I want to make the most of my trips to the shelter. I enjoy receiving cooking lessons from Muriel, which I'm currently being schooled on Italian meatballs. I also enjoy talking with the women. I've formed some important friendships at this place. Friendships I intend to foster for a long time to come. These ladies have slowly but surely helped me find myself.

I may not be the most adventure-seeking or fun-loving soul, but I'm me. And right now, that's pretty damn impressive.

I'm learning things about myself that I had never touched upon before. Cooking, sewing, and crocheting. Ava, the dayshift counselor, is even showing me self-defense moves. We're careful I don’t overexert myself in my current condition, but she's adamant that I learn the basic maneuvers to free myself should someone attack me from behind or try to drag me away against my will.

I hope I never have to use that skill set even though I'm slightly relieved to have learned them.

Then there's Jill. She's just an all-around badass who doesn't take shit from anyone. She killed her husband, and it was ruled as self-defense. Apparently, he liked to tie her up and do disgusting things to her. He also kidnapped her and hid her away in a mountain cabin for six months before she was able to escape. Jill is unlike anyone I've ever met, and I deeply admire her strength.

"There. Now, let's set the timer and have a glass of wine while we wait for it to cook," Muriel suggests.

Muriel is a second-generation Italian immigrant. Her parents own a restaurant in New York, where she's from, but she moved here when her boyfriend took a job in the city and left her family behind.

While Muriel sips on her red wine, and me on my water, she tells me her story. Each of the women come from horrific pasts, much like mine, and we all tell our stories when we're comfortable enough to lay our bleeding hearts bare for the others to see. It's not an easy thing to do, and I've only told them bits and pieces of my own story. But I know that someday I'll tell them everything.

"They separate you from the ones that love you. The ones who could support you if you needed them to. My ex made me feel like I was completely worthless. Like I was less than human." She tips her wine glass back and swallows a mouthful. "I used to think the sun rose and set on him." She shakes her head in dismay, her eyes looking far off into the past. "I thought he loved me like no other. But that wasn't the case." She leans forward and sets her glass down on the coffee table and then settles back on the couch, curling her long legs up beneath her and turning to face me.

"They're all the same, you know. Cowards. Liars. Cheaters. You'd think they would all be so very different, but they're not. Abusers have a pattern. They're predictable. They never stop even though they tell you they will. And they never love anyone more than they love themselves."

I can relate to all that. Jay was a classic narcissist. He always placed his needs and desires above anyone else's. He felt like he was the center of attention no matter where he went. And he never failed to remind me that he had done me a favor by marrying me because no one else would have stepped up to the plate like he did. Yeah, right. He was so full of himself.

"My ex was in law enforcement. Our second year of marriage was when he started hitting me. It wasn't all that bad at first. A slap here." I shrug. "A slap there." I shake my head as the memories threaten to take over. "But it got worse. So much worse." I take a drink of my water and move to stand from the couch.

"Are you leaving?"

"Yeah, I think I’d better."

And just like that, she lets it slide. She doesn't pressure me for more because she knows I'll tell her when I'm ready. That's what I love about this place ... There's no judgment here, just support. Women supporting women.

If only the rest of the world could see what a beautiful thing to behold that is.

"I'm going to speak with the administrators tomorrow to see if they'll approve the art classes I mentioned earlier for the kids."

She smiles and leans forward to give me a hug. "You have such a good heart. You take care of yourself, young lady."

I grin. "Yes, ma'am."

I say my goodbyes to the rest of the ladies and then make my way outside where a cab is waiting to take me home.

Will left me a set of keys to the BMW, but I'd rather have someone else drive me. The ride home is always a nice time of reflection for me. I enjoy being a passenger and watching the bright lights of the city dim as we make our way to the suburbs. It's moments like this that I'm able to take it all in without it seeming to overwhelm me.

Pieces.

That's how I try to live my life these days.

In pieces.

And one piece at a time, it's all starting to fit together.

The thought fills me with a hope I haven't dared to have before now.