Special thanks to my sister for this story.
-------------------------------------------------
I walked into the main room and looked at my daughter. She was playing with her rag doll when I noticed something moving through the window. It was that hooded man again. I don't know how he knows where we live. Even my husband doesn't know! I picked her up and moved her into another room where the man couldn't see us. "Mama? Is that man back?" she asked.
"Don't be afraid, honey. He can't hurt us," I said, softly. It's been a few years since we fled from my abusive husband. That man showed up a few days afterwards. He hasn't done anything. He just stands there, watches us for a little bit, then walks away. I don't understand what he wants. Could he be my husband?
The next day, we grabbed our ice skates and went to the frozen pond by our house. We put them on and walked onto the ice. She loves ice skating! It's been her favorite thing to do since we built our new house. It may not look like much, but it's a safer home than with my husband. We skated until our toes got cold. Then we went back inside and I made dinner.
"Mama, can we skate again tomorrow?"
"Sure sweety!" I replied. I won't keep her from doing what she loves. At least it keeps her mind off her father. A year passed since then, she's now eight. We decided to go skating again, but I didn't realize how thin the ice was. I heard it craking and dove to push her out the way.
It was raining during her funeral. I was with my grandpa, crying in his arms. Mama died saving me. She got stuck in the water and drowned. "It's my fault. I shouldn't have gone skating so early!" I cried.
"Shh. It's not your fault. Your mother was a brave woman. She wouldn't want you to cry," grandpa said. The hooded man was not papa. It was never him. It was my grandpa. He took my hand and we walked away from mama's grave.