She stood on the narrow, abandoned train bridge. Staring at the man who was a stranger and yet knew her better than she had ever known herself.

He was angry, she could see it in his dark brown eyes as he stood there, hands in the pockets of his black hood, she could see his tattoo peeking out where he didn't have the hood zipped the entire way.

She shivered against the rain that was currently soaking her to the bone, her wet hair hanging in her eyes.

"What are you doing?!" He demanded only a few feet away.

She opened her mouth, no words came out. It was a fair question, what was she doing?

She glanced back the way she had come, to the small green field and the homes that sat on the other side, warm dry homes. Her home.

The tan house in the middle of the street of the cozy culdesac that used to be her safe place, she should be there now, in her gourmet kitchen making dinner for her sweet babies.

Instead, she was here, on this bridge with a man so dangerous he could snap her neck with one hand.

"What are you doing here with me Elizabeth?" He asked.

She didn't know.