She was the luckiest girl in the whole world.
In the middle of the night, when she was pulled out of her bed and stuffed into a packed, hot car, she knew she was the luckiest.
As they drove all night, she would look into the sky and just know.
Of all the little girls in the world, of all the sweet little faces, the moon chose to follow her.
The tense, dark escapes were made a little softer by the big white orb in the sky. It was always with her, tracking right behind them in the speckled sky.
The nights when her mother would scoop her out of the covers and whisper “he’s back,” she was comforted by the watchful eye above her.

She was the unluckiest girl in the whole world.
20 now, with a little girl of her own. After a particularly brutal night, she realized it was her turn to initiate the escape.
Her slight frame slipped quietly in and out of the house, swiftly packing the car like her mother had on so many bloody nights.
He lay in a c***tail of unknown fluids, passed out from his reckless night. She knew she wouldn’t sleep for many hours.
Now for the hardest part. The saddest part.
She tiptoed into the quiet room and tugged the blankets away from the little body.
On the other side of the broken window, a vast sky greeted her bloodshot eyes. A full moon met her with a smile.
“Sweetheart, tonight you get to see why you’re the luckiest girl in the world,” she whispered to her sleeping girl.