While she hadn't yet become a full healer, Bella knew the process for healing and took comfort in it as she became Tilda's patient. She didn't think very much when her clothes were pushed around; there was far worse things Tilda could do to her than pull her skirt up. (In hindsight, at least her father hadn't humiliated her like that).

Even the comfort of healing knowledge, it seemed, couldn't soothe the actual pain that ensued. She wanted to cry and she wanted to yell — neither of which would be very helpful, especially for Tilda, who was trying to treat her — so she instead grabbed a fistful of the duvet and bit down on her lower lip until it began to bleed. Bella really loved plants, but she was beginning to resent the dittany as much as she resented her father, if only because it fucking hurt.

Tilda's questions were as difficult to bear as the sizzling pain from the dittany, but they were questions that needed to be answered. She couldn't expect her family to grant her a stay without any information as to why she'd run off her and why she was covered in injuries, right? It would be best to tell Tilda so she could be the one to tell the rest of the family.

"Of course he doesn't," she choked. "I wouldn't go anywhere he could find me. I-I just thought of you — he doesn't know about you." As my friend. He surely knew about the MacFusty clan, but simply knowing who they were would give him no reason to think she was there.