Taken

As long as she was remaking herself, what about a new name? She’d never liked the surname Frug, and knew it would forever remind her of the hated nickname Brenda and Robert had saddled her with. She’d always liked the name Beaufort, her maternal grandmother’s maiden name. It meant beautiful and strong, which suited her just fine.

Eventually, she’d let her mom and brother know where she was, though she didn’t plan to tell them about her ordeal. She would work that out through therapy. She was young, resilient and determined. She appreciated with acute clarity just how lucky she was to be alive—to be free. Never again would she take even a single day for granted.

She refused to let the trauma of the past month control her life going forward. She would fold it up into a tiny package. Rising up on her big, white wings, she would fly out over the sparkling blue Pacific and let it go.

She was free.