I hate to do this to you, dear internet, but I can't keep this crammed in. It hurts too much. I am lethargic, unsteady, aching in my gut.

I have a nineteen year old friend. She's more like a sister. More like my daughter. More like someone I care about than just about anyone on the planet. I'm not sure why. I've known her since she was six. I am protective of her. I care about her.

She got married after her first boyfriend knocked her up at seventeen. He lied about his age. She was complicit. Until after they were married. He should have been prosecuted, but he wasn't. We let it go. I knew he was mentally unhinged, not quite right, lazy, unemployable, possessive, stupid, ugly... but I supported them, damnit. I called and talked to them both. I sent them cards and the occasional check, put both of their names on it so he wouldn't feel ostracized. Every week I called, I asked her, "How are you doing?" and I'd listen in the long pauses while the video game droned in the background to hear what she wasn't saying. To hear in the hesitance what she couldn't say to me. I waited and I waited and I listened. I listened when her husband butted in and interupted the conversation, when he shouted profanity at the video game. For my benefit. When he energetically started some cleaning project right in front of her while she was on the phone and demanded answers for whatever he was sorting. Always in the room, damnit. It wouldn't matter so much if they'd had a healthy relationship. She could have left things unsaid and it would be alright. "How are you?"

We're fine. Fine.

Of course, when I found out he was abusive and she had filed two restraining orders over the last year, I wasn't exactly blown down. There's too many signs for this to come as a shock to anyone. I heard fourth hand they were separated, third hand she and the baby would move in with her father, second hand she had returned "home" on Friday. And I haven't been able to reach her since. The phone just rings.

My sister tells me the average is 8 times leaving and coming back before a woman gets the guts, the courage, the sense to leave. That means six more times. I can't take it.