Chapter 6 - A New Apartment
Two weeks after Rosalie’s discharge from the hospital, the autumn air turned crisp and clear, carrying the earthy scent of falling leaves across the city.
We weren't going back to the old life.
With the help of my savings—money I had quietly set aside over years of working freelance graphic design late at night while my parents believed I was merely sleeping—I had broken my lease and secured a bright, sunlit two-bedroom apartment on the top floor of a secure residential building on the east side of town.
It wasn't a sprawling Westridge colonial, but it had large bay windows, hardwood floors, a clean, modern kitchen, and most importantly, it was entirely ours. No strings attached. No rent paid in emotional abuse.
Gloria, our wonderful night nurse who had become a dear friend, helped us move the final boxes into the living room while Brooklyn chased a rubber ball across the hallway.
"This place is wonderful, Sarah," Gloria smiled, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel as she looked out the bay window at the colorful park across the street. "It feels so peaceful."
"It is peaceful," I said, unboxing a set of white ceramic mugs. "For the first time in my life, I actually feel like I can breathe."
From the bassinet parked near the living room window, Rosalie let out a soft, contented coo. She was thriving. Her cheeks were round and rosy, her tiny fingers gripped my thumb with surprising strength, and her lungs were completely healed, operating with the fierce, stubborn resilience of a fighter.
Brooklyn ran into the kitchen, holding a colorful crayon drawing she had made at the kitchen table.
"Mommy! Look! I drew our new house!"
I knelt down, taking the paper from her small hands. She had drawn a bright yellow building with large windows, a big tree outside, and four stick figures standing in the doorway: me, her, baby Rosalie, and a smiling sun in the corner.
"It’s beautiful, baby," I whispered, kissing her forehead. "It's the best house in the whole world."
"And Grandma can't ever come here, right?" Brooklyn asked, her big eyes looking up at me with sudden, cautious seriousness.
May you like
I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her close against my heart.
"No, sweetheart," I said firmly, letting every word be an absolute promise. "Grandma can never come here. Nobody can ever hurt us again. We are safe."
