Chapter 6 - The Paper Stars
Two weeks later.
The cool autumn breeze rustled through the brightly colored maple trees outside my mother’s home in Loveland, Colorado.
The townhouse in Fort Collins was officially gone. With the help of my mother and a team from the local domestic violence survivors' advocacy group, every single one of our belongings had been moved out, packed away, or sold. The past was closed, sealed, and buried.
I sat on the edge of the twin bed in the upstairs guest bedroom of my mother’s house.
The afternoon sun poured through the wide windows, illuminating the walls decorated with bright watercolor paintings and wooden bookshelves overflowing with children’s storybooks.
Ellie lay on her back across the soft floral quilt, staring up at the ceiling with a wide, radiant smile on her small face.
Above her, hanging from thin, invisible nylon threads, were dozens of small, glowing paper stars that my mother had crafted years ago. In the soft light of the bedroom, they caught the air from the floor vent, spinning slowly like a tiny, peaceful galaxy created just for her.
"Mommy?" Ellie asked softly, turning her small head toward me.
"Yes, sweetie?" I replied, leaning over to stroke her soft hair.
"Are we going to stay here forever?"
I looked around the warm, sunlit room, listening to the quiet rustle of the leaves outside and the soothing sound of my mother humming a song downstairs in the kitchen as she baked fresh apple pie.
There were no heavy footsteps in the hallway. There were no hushed, terrifying arguments behind locked doors. There were no phones hidden inside cardboard canisters, and no secret fear waiting behind every corner.
"Yes, Ellie," I smiled, a deep, overwhelming sense of warmth filling my chest. "We are staying right here. We are safe, we are free, and nobody is ever going to hurt us again."
Ellie reached up her tiny hand, holding two fingers in the air.
I watched her, my breath catching in my throat for a fraction of a second.
Then, with a sweet, bubbly little laugh, Ellie raised those two fingers and tapped them softly against my palm.
Tap. Tap.
"What does that mean, Mommy?" she giggled, kicking her feet happily against the quilt.
May you like
I leaned down, wrapping my arms tight around my precious, brave little girl, kissing her forehead under the glowing paper stars.
"It means I love you," I whispered, tears of pure, unbroken joy filling my eyes. "It means we won."
