This doesn't feel like a victory. You don't want to celebrate this. You'll go home and you'll run like you can't stop. You will run and the speed won't compensate for the darkness you've gained. You will be sick again. You'll wipe your mouth on the sleeve of your sweatshirt and tighten the laces of your trainers before you reach home.
You'll shower, dress, then you'll drive over and he'll let you in because he doesn't know what else to do. And you won't cry, he doesn't like it, but at night he'll let you sleep with the light on.
-fin-