The Silent Warrior

Dear Delyara, For six years, I lived in a house where I had to count my breaths. I knew exactly which floorboards creaked. I knew the sound of the car engine that meant I should hide the plates. I was "The Perfect Wife" on the outside, and a dying soul on the inside. I felt like I was trapped in a deep well with no rope. Tonight, I am writing this from a small, empty apartment. There is no furniture yet, just a mattress on the floor. But for the first time in 2,000 days, I am safe. I am alive. To the woman still counting floorboards: I am reaching my hand down into that well. You are stronger than the fear. You are worth more than the silence. I made it out, and I promise you, there is light up here.