Molly

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The willow tree bends, but it does not break. It weathers storms by swaying with the wind, its roots gripping the earth with quiet determination. I didn't know I had that kind of strength until the night I left, with my seven and a half month old baby in my arms and a carry-on suitcase packed for a nine day trip. I thought I'd be gone for a short while, but life had other plans.

The willow tree bends, but it does not break. It weathers storms by swaying with the wind, its roots gripping the earth with quiet determination. I didn't know I had that kind of strength until the night I left, with my seven and a half month old baby in my arms and a carry-on suitcase packed for a nine day trip. I thought I'd be gone for a short while, but life had other plans.

The willow tree bends, but it does not break. It weathers storms by swaying with the wind, its roots gripping the earth with quiet determination. I didn't know I had that kind of strength until the night I left, with my seven and a half month old baby in my arms and a carry-on suitcase packed for a nine day trip. I thought I'd be gone for a short while, but life had other plans.

Then again, when I got married, I didn't think I'd have to flee from him in fear for my safety and that of my child. Over the next year, I would cross eight states, learning to bend, adapt, and survive with nothing but determination, hope, and my baby. The breaking point, the night I knew I had to leave. The conflict started almost immediately after saying I do.

Then again, when I got married, I didn't think I'd have to flee from him in fear for my safety and that of my child. Over the next year, I would cross eight states, learning to bend, adapt, and survive with nothing but determination, hope, and my baby. The breaking point, the night I knew I had to leave. The conflict started almost immediately after saying I do.

Then again, when I got married, I didn't think I'd have to flee from him in fear for my safety and that of my child. Over the next year, I would cross eight states, learning to bend, adapt, and survive with nothing but determination, hope, and my baby. The breaking point, the night I knew I had to leave. The conflict started almost immediately after saying I do.

Before marriage, I'd noticed differences in how he handled stress, how quickly he became worked up, but I convinced myself it was manageable. Then, within months of being married, he became someone else. The man who had once written me cards each month and planned thoughtful dates now picked fights over the smallest things. How I ate my apples, whether I let my coffee get cold.

Before marriage, I'd noticed differences in how he handled stress, how quickly he became worked up, but I convinced myself it was manageable. Then, within months of being married, he became someone else. The man who had once written me cards each month and planned thoughtful dates now picked fights over the smallest things. How I ate my apples, whether I let my coffee get cold.

Before marriage, I'd noticed differences in how he handled stress, how quickly he became worked up, but I convinced myself it was manageable. Then, within months of being married, he became someone else. The man who had once written me cards each month and planned thoughtful dates now picked fights over the smallest things. How I ate my apples, whether I let my coffee get cold.

Things that shouldn't have mattered to anyone but somehow mattered enough to him to start an argument. I was exhausted, constantly trying to recapture the person I had married. When I got pregnant, the shift was undeniable. The first time he left bruises on my arms, it was because I wouldn't sit on the couch when ordered to, and a voice that sent chills down my spine.

Things that shouldn't have mattered to anyone but somehow mattered enough to him to start an argument. I was exhausted, constantly trying to recapture the person I had married. When I got pregnant, the shift was undeniable. The first time he left bruises on my arms, it was because I wouldn't sit on the couch when ordered to, and a voice that sent chills down my spine.

Things that shouldn't have mattered to anyone but somehow mattered enough to him to start an argument. I was exhausted, constantly trying to recapture the person I had married. When I got pregnant, the shift was undeniable. The first time he left bruises on my arms, it was because I wouldn't sit on the couch when ordered to, and a voice that sent chills down my spine.

It wasn't a request, it was a demand. And when I refused, his grip tightened. That was the first time, but it wasn't the last. The final night was the worst of my life. I wasn't allowed to sleep. He berated me for hours, his voice drilling into my skull, his words cutting deeper than the bruises he left behind.

It wasn't a request, it was a demand. And when I refused, his grip tightened. That was the first time, but it wasn't the last. The final night was the worst of my life. I wasn't allowed to sleep. He berated me for hours, his voice drilling into my skull, his words cutting deeper than the bruises he left behind.

It wasn't a request, it was a demand. And when I refused, his grip tightened. That was the first time, but it wasn't the last. The final night was the worst of my life. I wasn't allowed to sleep. He berated me for hours, his voice drilling into my skull, his words cutting deeper than the bruises he left behind.

Bruises on my arms, my legs, knuckle prints on my rib cage, a giant bruise across my jaw. I didn't realize you could even bruise from repeated slaps across the face. I don't remember how many times he hit me, but I do remember the moment that changed everything. He had been holding our baby when he put her down just so he could slap me. I watched, helpless, as she fell off the bed. That was it.

Bruises on my arms, my legs, knuckle prints on my rib cage, a giant bruise across my jaw. I didn't realize you could even bruise from repeated slaps across the face. I don't remember how many times he hit me, but I do remember the moment that changed everything. He had been holding our baby when he put her down just so he could slap me. I watched, helpless, as she fell off the bed. That was it.

Bruises on my arms, my legs, knuckle prints on my rib cage, a giant bruise across my jaw. I didn't realize you could even bruise from repeated slaps across the face. I don't remember how many times he hit me, but I do remember the moment that changed everything. He had been holding our baby when he put her down just so he could slap me. I watched, helpless, as she fell off the bed. That was it.

That was the moment I knew there was no more trying, no more hoping he would change. The only thing that mattered now was getting out. Storm 1. California. Carrying the weight. California was supposed to be a temporary stop. I worked 40-hour weeks with my baby strapped to my chest, sharing a room with my sister, her two dogs, and the whirlwind of uncertainty that had become my life.