Chapter 17 - Finding Her Voice
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One quiet Tuesday afternoon, I came home early from the base. The house was filled with the smell of brewing coffee and the soft sounds of a jazz record playing in the living room.
I found Abigail standing in the kitchen. She was wearing an oversized sweater and faded jeans, holding a warm mug of coffee in both hands. The afternoon sunlight streamed through the large bay window, illuminating her face. The bruising had completely faded. The swelling was gone. She looked like my beautiful daughter again.
For several seconds, she didn't realize I was there. She just stared out the window, lost in thought.
Then, she turned and saw me holding my briefcase.
"Mom?" she asked softly.
"Yes, honey?" I replied, setting my bags down on the counter.
"I always thought I was weak," she confessed, her voice carrying a heavy, sorrowful weight.
I stopped sorting through my mail and looked at her. "Why in the world would you think that?"
She traced the rim of her coffee mug with her thumb. "Because I stayed. For eight months, he chipped away at my soul, and I stayed. I let them lock me in that guest house. I let them tell me I was worthless. A strong person would have fought back on day one. A strong person would have left immediately."
I walked across the kitchen and stood directly in front of her.
"Abigail, look at me," I said firmly, waiting until her eyes met mine. "You survived. You survived a psychological war zone."
She looked down, tears welling in her eyes. "That isn't the same thing as being strong, Mom."
"Yes," I said softly, lifting her chin with my index finger. "Sometimes it is exactly the same thing. Surviving is the ultimate act of defiance against someone who is trying to destroy you."
A single tear slipped down her cheek. "I should have called you sooner. I'm so sorry I waited until it got physical."
I took her free hand and squeezed it tightly. "Sweetheart, listen to me very carefully. You called. That is literally all that matters. You made the call."
May you like
She looked up at me, the heavy burden of guilt finally beginning to lift from her shoulders.
"You called," I repeated, pulling her into a warm hug. "And I came. And I will always come. You are the strongest woman I know."
