A place to hide from their abusers and get their feet back on the ground. A chance to become an individual being, not an abusers puppet, to be control...ed as he sees fit. A chance to find ones self. A friend of mine that stayed a short time at Safehouse, (I cannot use her name without breaking confidentiality) wrote a lovely poem for the people that happened to be there when she was, and it explains some of the feelings that I went through. And even though it did not reveal all that had happened. "Give me those." I practically snatched the earrings from her. While I nervously got them on, she stood behind me, calmly fastening on the necklace. I heard daddy greeting Carl as I slipped my shoes on, and stood in front of the mirror one last time.That stranger was back again, the one I'd first met in the mall mirror. I looked taller, more mature. The earrings and necklace sparkled. My neck looked long and graceful, and knowing eyes looked back at me. Even with my glasses on I didn't look. More

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