She was fed up, done, finished. Time to leave. She pulled the small suitcase off of the top shelf in the closet and began to pack. Not everything can come, she thought. Only her favorite things would make the cut.
As she filled the suitcase, she felt the strength of motherhood growing inside her and understood. The baby, my only baby. She had to get away from this little house, a difficult man and a loveless marriage. He had left for the day and she knew he would be back. She knew this was her chance to get out.
She grabbed the scarf from the drawer, the orange one she had loved, along with a wad of cash she had secretly saved and walked through the small doorway for the last time.
She looked up to the sky. The clouds were growing dark and were ominously gathering around her.
She feared the torrential storm was on its way and that she wouldn’t make it on time for the last train to take her away.
She hurried along, holding her belly in a calming way so the baby would know she was there. She was there. She would always be there, no matter what, for this child.