She sat nose to nose with the curious cat, chocolate brown eyes peering into glowing green tinted gold.  Her chin rested casually on slender folded arms.  Above them, a full summer moon cast light down.  Still she sat, bare legs pressed to the rough peeling paint of a wooden bench, arms folded on an equally rough table top.  She lost herself in the cat's eyes, desperate to drown out the sounds that issued from the hideous monstrosity of a mobile home behind her.  She refused to hear the yelling, the screaming, the expletives, the slurring.  She refused.
            Instead, she sat outside beneath the warm night sky.  She sat at the picnic table beneath the old wood poled streetlight so that she could read.  Beside her sat a couple of her beloved books.  Worn, dog-eared and broken spined.  They were the best friends of a lonely little girl.  Tonight though, she had met the stray.  Black with orange and white splotches, the stray sported torn ears and missing whiskers.  She liked him, especially his luminescent eyes.  Vivid, bright, and calmly evaluating; not harsh and critical like other eyes she had stared into.  Other eyes wanted things, things she wasn't prepared to give, dark and angry accusatory eyes. 
            A low rumble came from the cat, a rough sandpaper like sound.  She smiled when she realized he was purring.  She was glad that her presence, just her presence, could bring any being pleasure.  She reached her hand foreword, slowly, tentatively and slowly soothed down the bushy fur that covered his back.  The shining eyes closed as the rumble grew louder.  Her hand grew more sure as she stroked the purring tom, a smile pulling itself across the surprised planes of her face.  The cat edged closer to her, leaning into the comforting touch.  Smiling her sad unaccustomed smile, she lightly batted her head to his, closing her eyes in pleasure as the soft fur tickled her face. 
            Somewhere behind her, the shouting escalated.  The sharp sound of glass shattering rang in the still night air. Startled, the cat lashed out, catching the web of her hand with sharp claws.  Her eyes narrowed in pain and sorrow, but the smile still remained.  She understood this poor battered creature, so like herself.  Wary and fearful of being hurt, he had lashed out instinctively before being hurt himself.  She watched the cat leap of the table and race away into the dark.  A luxury she, herself couldn't afford. 
            She watched him run off, tail high in the air and her smile grew wider, even as the screams and shouts behind her became more angry and violent.  Someday, she too would flee.  She cradled her hand to her chest, gently smoothing down the torn skin and evaluating the wound, before calmly picking up an abused thoroughly read book.  You always hurt the ones you love, after all.