Suddenly

Closet

"Shh, Aylie, it's okay." Grace whispered frantically to the shaking toddler in her arms. She couldn't have him hearing her and getting even more angry than he already was.

It was once again the middle of the night, and the pair of them were crouched inside her master closet, waiting for the man outside to finally pass out from his alcohol driven rage.

This was not how she envisioned her life. From the horrible man yelling slurs at her through the locked door, to the tiny child huddled in her arms, this is not the life she had signed up for.

Aylie, or Ayla was her only saving grace. Though it had taken her months to come to terms with the fact that she was going to be a mother, she wouldn't change the little girl for the world.

Born a month and a half premature, brought on by stress, Ayla Grace had been a fighter from the start. She had only been four dainty pounds when she made her grand entrance and stolen her mother's heart.

This wasn't the life she wished for Ayla either. The perfect little girl didn't deserve parents who fought as much as Grace and her husband. She didn't deserve nights locked in a closet, clutching to her mother's nightgown while her father threw anything and everything at the closed door.

She had a fleeting wish for Hannah and Mamrie. Though, she hadn't seen the pair in over a year, almost two. Neither of them had even met Ayla. Her husband had seen to that. He saw the two girls as 'unrefined' and 'childish.' He claimed to hate the version of herself that Grace was when she was with the pair. The passed couple years he had done all he could to alienate her from them.

She wondered if they would even have her now? They hadn't spoken in so long. She no longer posted videos, or pictures on her instagram, she didn't even know if they knew she lived in New York City again.

"Mama?" Ayla voice broke her thoughts. She looked down to the shivering toddler in her arms.

Ayla was so tiny, even for her year and three month old age. She was bore the size of the average ten month old. Her brown eyes were all Grace, as well as most of her other features. The only thing she inherited from her father was her dark hair, but that could easily be a result of Grace's naturally brunette locks. She liked to pretend she had made the baby all on her own, with no help from her asshole father.

"Hi, precious," she whispered to the little girl. Their brown eyes met in the pale light from Grace's phone flashlight. The child's eyes were filled with unshed tears.

It hurt Grace's heart to see how her daughter seemed to be so much older and more mature than the other children. Ayla had seen so much in her short life. It wasn't fair.

"It's okay Aylie." She told the girl as she began to rock back and forth, it was going to be a long night if she didn't get some sleep.

She watched in silence as Ayla's doe eyes began to get heavier. She was thankful her husband had stopping throwing her knick knacks around the room. It was finally quiet. These were the moments she lived her. No yelling, not crying, not fighting. It was just her, and Ayla, just as it should be.

Her sore body didn't matter as she moved to lay the tiny girl on the pallet she had made them in the dark closet. She knew morning would come and she would have to hurriedly hide all the evidence before the maid suspected something. Her husband would really beat her if he found on someone was onto his antics.

She snorted slightly. How funny that she would want to protect him. How utterly pathetic that she was afraid to let their little secret out. She couldn't imagine what people would say. What they would think of her.

Grace had never allowed herself to see weak. She had lived her life with her head held high. Well, until a few years ago.

She didn't really quite know where she went wrong. When her mind warped itself into this new, twisted version of herself.

She knew she was weak, and afraid. She was afraid of him, and the people who may find out about this version of Grace. They would all be so disappointed in her.

Her thoughts traveled to her family. Even though she was back on the East coast, she hadn't seen them in years.

At first, he had liked them. Then he began to find the smallest annoyances in all of them. Her brother was too gay. Her mother was too ditzy, her father too threatening to his hold over Grace. Little by little, she had chipped each of them out of her life.

The only person who had met Ayla was her brother. It had been by complete happenstance. They had run into one another in a store. He had cried when he held her for the first time, so did Grace. She was so ashamed of how things had unfolded. The meeting was cut short when her husband had come around the corner.

His eyes were fiery with anger. He had simply grabbed the then three month old from her uncle's arms, as well as Grace's wrist, and pulled them out of the store. She had paid dearly for her mistake that night.

In the present, she shuddered at the memory. Somehow, she felt as if she could still feel the gaping wounds that bad graced her back from his black leather belt. She had learned a hard lesson that night. Perhaps even a tiny bit of her had died that night as well.

With tear filled eyes, she looked down to her now sleeping baby. She knew she needed to get the both of them out of this situation. What sort of person would Ayla grow up to be if she lived in the hellhole forever? All the money in the world wouldn't make her a happy person after all the horrors she had already witnessed.

Graced briefly thanked God that the child was young enough to not retain the memories of what she had seen thus far. But, that precious time was waning.

One day soon, Ayla would start to remember everything.