The rain beating the window sounded like fingers tapping on the glass. It sent a shiver down her spine as she sat curled up in the ratty old chair. Rain was a reminder she could not erase from her mind of what had happened. That terrible night had happened on an evening very like this one. The old Volkswagen she and Jenna had bought now belonged to someone else. After getting the stains from the back of the car seat out she had sold it.

She had thought of selling the apartment too. There were so many reminders of Jenna here. The kitchen counter where Jenna sat and read the papers on Saturday mornings. The tiny little balcony she had turned into a garden of sorts. Potted plants and a trough overflowing with tomatoes filled the tiny space. There was just room enough for the rickety foldable chairs that Jenna had set up. "It's just a piece of paradise, just the two o us," Jenna had been kneeling among her plants pruning here and there. A smudge of dirt on her nose.

Jenna, Jenna, Jenna. With her dark hair tied back in a ponytail, fanned out on a pillow or tucked behind her ear, she was beautiful. She remembered how vain Jenna was when it came to her hair, How she loved running her hands through her hair. Her hair was so soft, it was almost like silk. No, it was silk.

Thoughts of Jenna sent her into a downwards spiral. But she needed to remember. To forget Jenna was like slapping her in the face. Her face, that beautiful face. Her eyes curtained by long, long eyelashes that curled upwards. Her full pouty lips, always in a half smile. Her nose was perfect, how often she had kissed it. The living room was thin with memories of Jenna. They hadn't spent much time here.

Usually it was in their rooms. There was Jenna's room where they slept, and her room where she worked with such intensity that food and sleep became insignificant and trivial. If it weren't for Jenna she would have died a long time ago of malnourishment. Jenna forced food down her and made her sleep. Jenna was a vital part of her. As vital perhaps as her heart. Jenna was a part of her.

She went into Jenna's room, almost hesitantly. It seemed stupid to knock but she did anyway. Jenna kept the place cosy and homely. It was where they cuddled. She sank into the bed, pulling the duvet to her nose. She inhaled deeply; Jenna's scent still existed in these sheets. Her subtle perfume that was like flowers. It didn't offend; it didn't turn you on either. It was sweet and soft.

She lay staring at the ceiling wondering if there was life after Jenna. It was possible. After all she had existed before Jenna. But that was the point. She had merely existed, not lived. Jenna had brought feeling and warmth into an existence that had been built on an instinct to survive. To stop living was like letting the other side win. The opposing team being her father.

But everything had a purpose. If it had not been for him she would not have needed to draw. Drawing was an escape that reminded her a world free of pain existed. The freedom and distance from reality that drawing brought was a relief. It was her own way of making a little paradise. Jenna created a haven for them with her pressed flowers and incense. Her floral bed sheets and duvet were a comfort that she had never known she needed. They spoke of a mother who had left her. A childhood that could have been. Jenna couldn't give it all back, but she gave her some of it. Jenna was the first person to tell her to cry. In her home -if you could call it that- tears were a forbidden thing, to be hidden. The tears she had cried so many times were more of anger and resentment. Hatred and bitterness mixed with real blood.

That night, the first time she had seen herself naked for the first time, she cried with sadness. Her body was another thing Jenna had helped her love. Before Jenna her body was a thing to loathe, besides her hands she couldn't find a thing about it to love. But that night Jenna had made her look. Look, full on at herself in the mirror. Had helped her see the small waist and slender arms hidden beneath XXL jeans and shirts. She was really a size S.

For the first time she liked what she saw. She loved it. It had been that same night that nothing but the thin, cool, crisp sheets lay between them in bed. That summer night when Jenna had kissed her softly. That night the world was that room. And it's inhabitants, Jenna and Renee. Long after they had finished exploring each other, she had lain in Jenna's arms wishing she had met her sooner. Knowing all the time she had wasted not being with her.

And for the very first time she cried. Jenna hadn't told her to stop like so many people before her. She had told her to let it out. She cried and cried, as long as Jenna had her arms wrapped around her and kissed the top of her head it was okay. She opened her eyes and she could almost feel Jenna. She turned to her right and she remembered vividly what she looked like that night. The lean body stretched out on the sheets. Her skin, tanned golden, her hair slightly tussled and her breasts. Those perfect breasts, her nipples a dark brown, lighter then her hair. She wanted so badly to run her fingers up and down that perfect body, to feel the supple skin and smell her again. She trembled with the memory.

But now, all that was left was the lingering scent of her perfume. A pale reminder of the woman whom she had loved, and who had loved her too. Loved her unconditionally. It was a cruel thing to have Jenna taken away so suddenly. They had had so many dreams. But now her dreams were of that night. And as she laid thinking of Jenna, her thoughts wandered involuntarily towards that night.