Chapter 1: The Door 🚪

Every year on Naomi’s birthday, we make her favorite foods.

It’s become a family tradition since she passed.

Each year, Mom chooses a different category. Last year, she made all of Naomi’s favorite Jamaican dishes. The year before that, we focused on desserts because Naomi had the biggest sweet tooth.

This year was seafood and pasta.

The living room was filled with silver and pink birthday balloons, Naomi’s favorite colors. Pink and silver tablecloths covered the tables, and even the plates matched.

Around the coffee table were pictures of Naomi from different stages of her life. Baby pictures, birthday pictures, school pictures, and pictures of me and Naomi together.

Mom had candles lit throughout the living room in memory of her.

The smell of dinner filled the entire house.

Mom made her famous salmon cakes, sautéed lobster and fried lobster tails, shrimp, crab and lobster Alfredo, and mussels in this amazing wine tomato sauce.

The sauce didn’t look very appetizing, but somehow all the flavors came together perfectly.

Naomi hated clams.

She always said they looked like snot.

I laughed to myself remembering how she’d make a disgusted face every time Mom made them.

The seafood also reminded me of a family road trip Dad took us on to Baltimore, Maryland. I can’t remember the name of the restaurant anymore, but I remember the food.

The seafood tasted so fresh, you would’ve thought they caught it right before they cooked it.

Naomi talked about that restaurant for months.

As Mom started setting the food on the table, I grabbed the serving spoons and forks so we could make our plates.

Every year on Naomi’s birthday, we sit around the table and talk about our favorite memories of her.

It was our way of keeping her with us.

Last year, Dad didn’t come home until after midnight because he was out drinking his feelings away.

This year, I assumed he would miss dinner again.

“Haz.”

Mom calling my name broke me out of my thoughts.

“Yes, Mom?”

“Are you okay, sweetie?”

“Yeah. Just thinking about what Naomi would be doing this year for her birthday.”

I looked down at my plate.

“She would’ve been twenty-one this year. Finally old enough to go to a bar.”

I smiled.

“Dad would’ve loved to have a drinking partner,” I said jokingly.

Mom laughed a little.

It was the first time in five years I’d heard a genuine laugh come from her.

I watched as a real smile formed across her face.

For a moment, it felt good to see her happy.

“Hey,” Mom said. “Let’s do something different this year.”

She reached for a bottle of wine.

“You’re not of age yet, but a glass of wine wouldn’t hurt.”

She smiled and pointed toward the kitchen.

“Go get the wine glasses.”

I got up and from setting the table.

Then Mom looked toward the living room.

“Let’s sit in front of the TV and watch some of Naomi’s favorite movies.”

I looked up with a big smile.

She never let me and Naomi eat in the living room and watch TV.

“I guess we really are doing things differently this year,” I said, letting out a little chuckle.

After dinner, Mom and I moved to the living room floor.

We watched some of Naomi’s favorite movies.

We knew her favorite parts by heart.

Every time one of those scenes came on, Mom and I would repeat the actors’ lines right along with them, just like Naomi used to.

Sometimes we’d say the line before the actor said it.

Mom started laughing.

“She would be so annoyed that we know all her lines.”

I smiled.

“No, she would’ve been proud.”

For a few minutes, it almost felt like she was sitting there with us.

Like everything was normal.

Like Naomi was still here.

Then I saw Dad’s headlights pull into the driveway.

I immediately looked at the clock.

2:10 a.m.

I jumped up, grabbed our plates, and carried them into the kitchen.

I already knew he was drunk.

He probably stayed at the bar until they called last round.

Not eating in front of the TV was technically Dad’s rule, and Mom usually just went along with it.

I didn’t want him to see us eating in the living room and take it out on Mom.

I heard the front door open.

Then I heard Dad stumbling over his feet in the doorway.

The smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke quickly filled the room.

By the time he made it into the kitchen, I already had his plate warming in the microwave.

I knew he hadn’t eaten.

He was too busy drinking his sorrows away.

“Hey, sweet pea. You’re still up?”

I looked up and forced a smile.

“Hey, Dad. Yeah. Me and Mom were up watching some of Naomi’s favorite movies. I couldn’t fall asleep.”

He forced a smile back and lowered his head as he made his way into the living room to find Mom.

“Hey, honey. How are you feeling?”

Before I could hear Mom’s response, Dad started questioning her.

“Were you drinking wine?”

His voice changed.

“Why did you have my sweet baby girl drinking wine? She’s only sixteen!”

I froze.

Then I heard him blaming my mom for Naomi’s death. The conversation switched so quick

“You stupid bitch! How could you be so careless?”

His voice got louder.

“You let them take my daughter from me!”

My heart started pounding.

“It should’ve been you! Maybe I would’ve been able to cope better!”

Then—

CRASH.

Glass shattered.

“Please, no.”

I ran into the living room.

Dad had Mom by her hair.

She kicked her feet and screamed, “Get off me! Are you crazy? It’s just wine! It’s not like she’s drinking beer until two in the morning with her friends!”

I knew that pissed him off.

Dad yanked her off the floor , grabbed her by her hair, and slammed her again onto the little coffee table we had.

“Let her go!”

I stepped forward, screaming.

Mom looked up at me.

“Go upstairs, baby. It’s okay.”

I ran.

I ran upstairs and sat balled up in the corner of my closet.

I could hear my mother screaming with every strike from my father’s hands.

I lay down on my favorite fuzzy blanket—the one that used to belong to Naomi.

Even as a teenager, Naomi took this blanket everywhere with her.

Now it had become my security blanket.

I pulled it around me and rocked back and forth, covering my ears, trying to block out the horrifying sounds coming from downstairs.

I closed my eyes.

This wasn’t Dad’s first time hitting Mom.

But since Naomi passed away, the abuse had become more frequent and more intense.

I squeezed my eyes shut tighter.

I just wanted everything to stop.

Eventually, I drifted off.

At first, everything felt familiar.

Safe.

Like I was somewhere inside one of my memories.

Then…

everything went quiet.

I slowly opened my eyes.

Black.

Nothing but darkness.

I looked around, confused.

Where am I?

There was a small light glowing somewhere ahead of me.

I turned around.

And that’s when I saw her.

Naomi.

She stood there wearing the same clothes she had on the last day I saw her.

Her long, jet-black hair fell around her shoulders.

Her big, beautiful green eyes looked exactly the way I remembered them.

And that smile…

That smile could light up any room.

She smiled at me.

Then she waved.

Not goodbye.

A wave telling me to follow her.

She turned around and started walking toward an open door.

“Naomi?”

She kept walking.

I followed her.

She disappeared through the doorway, and I ran to catch up.

But when I reached the door…

I walked through.

And—

I woke up.

I slowly opened my eyes.

Everything was quiet.

Too quiet.

I pushed myself up and looked around my closet.

My heart started pounding.

That dream didn’t feel like a dream at all.

I glanced toward the sunlight shining through the crack in my closet door.

I stared at it.

Then I heard something.

“Hazel…”

I froze.

It was Naomi’s voice.

My heart pounding, I slowly got up and peeked my head through the crack in the closet door.

A shadow stretched across the wall.

I froze.

It looked like Naomi.

“Naomi?”

I reached toward the door—

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

I jumped.

My eyes flew open.

I sat straight up in my bed, my heart pounding against my chest.

I looked around my room.

My alarm clock was going off.

I reached over and shut it off.

I sat there for a moment, trying to catch my breath.

I must’ve fallen asleep in the closet again.

Mom probably found me and put me in bed.

I rubbed my eyes and looked around my room.

It was just a dream.

At least…

I thought it was.

My bedroom door opened.

Mom walked in.

“Good morning, sweetie. How did you sleep?”

I looked up at her before replying.

“I found you in the closet, so I tucked you into bed so you could sleep better.”

I immediately noticed the pain in her eyes.

She had already put makeup on, trying to cover the bruises, but I could still see them.

She sat down beside me on the bed, grabbed my hand, and gave me a small smile.

“Since you don’t have online classes today, why don’t you run some errands with me?”

I smiled back.

“Okay.”

She squeezed my hand.

I didn’t know it at the time, but that would be the last morning I woke up in that house.

Everything was about to change.

Before I got out of bed, I looked over at the closet.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the dream I had.

It felt too real.

It was almost like Naomi had really been there.

But I knew that couldn’t be possible.

She had been dead for five years.

I got out of bed and walked toward the bathroom to brush my teeth.

But as I stepped into the hallway, something caught my attention.

There were two big suitcases sitting outside Mom’s bedroom.

I stopped.

I stared at them for a moment.

Why were the suitcases out?

I walked into Mom’s room.

She was standing beside the bed, packing clothes into another suitcase.

There were duffle bags scattered across the floor.

I looked around the room, confused.

“Mom?”

She turned around.

I looked at all the bags.

“What are you doing?”

Mom stopped packing.

She looked at me.

And for a moment, she didn’t say anything.

Mom took a deep breath.

“For the last five years, I tried to be understanding of your dad’s pain. I lost a daughter too. I’m hurt, and I’m broken, but I never took my anger out on your dad or you.”

She looked down at her hands.

“Instead, I became his punching bag, praying he would never turn his anger onto you.”

She looked back at me.

“I always said I would never let a man put his hands on me. And yet, I did.”

Her voice cracked.

“I grew distant from my family and friends. We barely speak anymore because I was hiding what he was doing. I knew if they knew the truth, they wouldn’t allow me to stay.”

She paused.

“But I loved him. And I wanted to try to help him through his pain. I thought we could get through this together.”

Her eyes filled with tears.

“Instead, he turned on me… and somehow, I became the problem.”

she walked over towards me, She squeezed my hand.

“But I don’t want you growing up thinking this is love.”

“You’re old enough to understand now. A man should never put his hands on you, no matter how much he claims he loves you. Physical abuse isn’t okay. Mental abuse isn’t okay. None of this is okay.”

She wiped a tear from her cheek.

“I know it’s hard to walk away. But I need to be strong—not only for me, but for you too, baby girl.”

She looked into my eyes.

“I’m so sorry I allowed you to see all this pain and abuse.”

Her voice became softer.

“This is not a healthy relationship. And I would never want you to fall in love with an abuser and mistake that kind of pain for love.”

“I never want to be the example that shows you that you should accept staying with someone at any cost just because you love them, or even because you have a child with them.”

“Once someone shows you laziness, mental or physical abuse, or that they don’t cherish you or the ground you walk on, those are red flags. Nobody in this world is perfect, but those are things you should never ignore. You have to know when it’s time to walk away.”

She wiped the tears from her eyes.

“I owe it to you as your mother to set a good example—not just in life, but in relationships too. One day, you’re going to start dating, and I would never want you to accept the things I have accepted.”

She took a deep breath.

“So today, while your dad is working, I’m going to file for divorce. I went and got a restraining order while you were asleep. We’ll get a U-Haul, pack up our belongings, and get on the road.”

My eyes widened.

“I never wanted you to feel like I was keeping you from your dad. If you want to stay in contact with him, we’ll figure out a way for you to do that without him being able to find us. And when you’re older and living on your own, you can see him in person if that’s what you choose.”

She squeezed my hand.

“But for now, I have to keep us safe.”

She took a deep breath.

“I choose my life over loving him.”

I wiped the remaining tears falling from her face.

I kissed her forehead.

“I choose you over having a relationship with an abuser.”

She looked at me.

“I love you.”

I smiled through my tears.

“I love you for finally choosing you and getting us out of this abusive situation. I always questioned why you stayed and allowed him to put his hands on you. But now I understand.”

I squeezed her hand.

“I love you. And I love you even more for not giving up and fighting.”

I paused.

“Leaving is you fighting back.”

I kissed her hand, then started to wall towards her bedroom door.

“I’m going to get ready so I can help you finish packing.”

And just like that, it was the beginning of our fresh start.

After I washed my face, brushed my teeth, and got dressed, I went down to the basement and grabbed the rest of the suitcases so I could pack up my room.

When I got downstairs, I noticed Mom had already packed up all of Naomi’s pictures, the DVD player, and all of our DVDs.

She must have started as soon as Dad left for work.

Once I got back upstairs, Mom told me to just pack my clothes, perfumes, facial products, and anything else I could fit into the suitcases and duffle bags.

“Don’t worry about the furniture,” she said. “We’ll buy everything new once we get to our destination.”

I nodded and started packing.

We took a break it was time to go pick up the U-Haul.

Once we got into the car, our first stop was U-Haul.

We got the biggest truck they had.

We made it back home they lawyer called and said theyll send over everything mom needed to start the divorce process so she wouldnt have to come into the office then, started packing everything inside.

Mom asked if I wanted to take my vanity.

“If you do, we’ll have to put it in first and pack everything else around it.”

It was Naomi’s.

Of course I didn’t want to leave it.

I grabbed the toolbox from the hallway closet and took the mirror off the vanity. I didn’t have to take the whole thing apart, so we put the vanity in the truck first.

I wrapped the mirror in a few of my blankets to protect it from breaking.

Then we heard the door open.

My heart dropped.

I thought Dad had come home early from work.

But then I heard someone call out—

“Bear!”

Bear was my mom’s childhood nickname.

The voice sounded familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it.

“Up here!” Mom yelled.

I poked my head out of my bedroom to see who it was.

My face lit up.

Uncle Will.

I ran down the stairs and jumped into his arms.

It had been two years since I’d seen him, so I was shocked to see him standing there.

“Why are you here?” I asked.

He put me down and looked at me.

“I’m helping y’all get out of here.”

I looked at him, confused.

“Your mom called me last night crying and told me everything that’s been going on.”

He shook his head.

“I got in the car, tore down the road, and got here as fast as I could.”

I looked down.

He gently lifted my chin with his hands and looked me in my eyes.

“Everything is going to be okay.”

I nodded.

Then he smiled.

“Now show me your room so I can start loading your dressers into the U-Haul.”

I looked at him.

“But Mom said only clothes.”

He laughed.

“Yeah, stuff you can carry and pack. Me and my friends got the heavy stuff.”

He pointed toward the truck.

“We’ll put the dressers in first. Then the duffle bags and suitcases can go on top and around them.”

I led him to my room and showed him which dressers I wanted to take.

He went back downstairs and got his friends and some plastic wrap.

They wrapped the dressers so the drawers wouldn’t open while they were carrying them.

While they were doing that, I grabbed the rest of my shoes, threw them into a tote, and packed up all my jackets and sweaters.

Once they finished with my dressers, they started loading the boxes and duffle bags Mom had packed with everything we were taking from downstairs.

I stood there watching them carry everything out of the house.

For the first time, it was actually starting to feel real.

We were leaving.

Not tomorrow.

Not next week.

Today.

Once they got everything into the U-Haul, I walked through the house with Mom to make sure we had everything.

I couldn’t believe we were actually moving.

The only things left in the house were Dad’s belongings.

It was like we had never lived there.

But this was a good thing.

I hated seeing my mom suffer through the physical and mental abuse, but today she seemed happy.

Like she was finally taking her life back for herself instead of living to please my dad.

He wasn’t a bad person. I knew that.

But Naomi’s death had turned him into someone I didn’t recognize.

I just wished things were different.

But I knew this move was what we needed.

Not to go back to who we were, but to grow into who we were supposed to be.

Staying there was a death wish.

After we made sure nothing else was needed from the house, Mom locked the door and dropped the keys into the mailbox.

We got into our car, Uncle Will got into the U-Haul, and his friends got into his car.

Before we left, Mom asked me to walk with her to the leasing office.

Once we got there, she handed the lady a folder.

Mom explained to her that we were leaving and that they had made arrangements to get Mom’s name off the lease so she wouldn’t be held accountable for anything that happened to the house or if Dad fell behind on the rent.

The woman handed Mom a slip of paper with her number on it.

“If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to call me. Even if it’s just to sit on the phone for comfort.”

Ms. Lee was an older Chinese woman who had always been helpful.

She always checked in on us, especially after Naomi passed away.

She was the first person to notice the abuse.

She had always tried to convince my mom to leave.

So now that we were finally leaving, she told Mom how proud she was of her and how strong she was.

She told us to stay in contact.

She gave Mom a big hug.

Then, along with the paper containing her number and address, she handed Mom an envelope with some money inside.

Mom immediately declined.

But Ms. Lee wasn’t taking no for an answer.