Chapter 10
Five years after Lorraine pounded on my bedroom door at 5:03 AM, I stood in the garden of the shelter we'd built, surrounded by women I'd helped, and I watched the sunrise.
The 5:03 Project had helped over two thousand women. We had offices in four cities. Rachel's Law had been adopted in twelve states.
I was forty-one. A name partner. A founder. A wife. A woman who'd been broken and rebuilt herself stronger.
David came out with two cups of coffee. He handed me one. Put his arm around me.
"Another early morning?" he said.
"Another 5:03," I said. "I wouldn't miss it."
We watched the sun come up. Somewhere in the shelter, a baby cried. A woman laughed. Breakfast was being cooked—by choice, by volunteers, for women who'd once been told it was their duty.
I thought about Daniel. Still in prison. He'd written again. I still didn't answer.
I thought about Lorraine. She'd gotten a job at a grocery store. I'd heard. She was trying. Or so they said. I didn't care.
I thought about the woman I'd been five years ago. Bruised. Afraid. Trapped. Being told to learn her place.
She was gone.
In her place was a woman who'd fought. Who'd won. Who'd built something bigger than herself.
A woman who was safe. Loved. Confident. Free.
David squeezed my hand. "You okay?"
I looked at him. At the man who loved me exactly as I was. Who never once tried to control me. Who made me coffee at 5:03 in the morning because he wanted to, not because I demanded it.
"I'm perfect," I said.
And I meant it.
The sun rose higher. The garden bloomed. The women of the shelter started their day—their new lives, their fresh starts.
And I stood there, coffee in hand, the woman I'd fought so hard to become, and I smiled.
May you like
Because my life—our life—was just beginning.
The end.
