Drystan!
There was a particular tree stump that the Fawcetts found to be a calming place, or at least Bess liked to think of it that way. She and Drystan had had a few talks, conversations, and discussions out here in the vast openness of their fields, and it seemed like while problems weren't always solved, they were worked on, solutions were found, things felt less heavy. She'd even found her kids hiding up here when they had fights with each other or were in a mood. It was where Bess' mind had taken her when she escaped from the implosion of Chester's shop.

She let out another long, shaky breath and ran her hands across her face. Her initial shock and terror had seemingly worn off, given that she wasn't crying hysterically and that her entire body wasn't shivering, but she couldn't find the strength to move from the hill and to the house. Even the cold autumn breeze couldn't whisk her up, and she wondered if maybe it was for the best. She didn't know if she could go back and face the world, or the questions, or the ramifications.

It felt like she'd spent hours justifying her actions. He'd taken her, he's basically kidnapped her from the stadium, she had to fight back, it was self-defense! Bess' thoughts jolted back to her means to get the upper hand and she let out a choked sob, thinking what if. What if she hadn't hit him hard enough? What if she couldn't stop him if things had gone further--

"It was self-defense," she muttered, putting the heels of her hands to her eyes. "Self-defense, it was self-defense--"