Her feet stood firmly at the door. The great oak frames overhead appeared to be narrowing her escape. With a deep inhale, Megan could feel her lungs expand with the crisp, dry air.

*Right, just one step forward….Just take that first step…*

Megan stepped out slowly, her legs slightly shaking, as each step dragged against the ground. The sun hit hard at first, like a spotlight cascading down on her. It was fitting really. She had spent so much time in the shadows and now she had no choice but to be plunged into the light.

As Megan turned to face the place she’d once called home, she felt a mixture of sadness and relief.

“Megan, come on. You can do this.” A voice from the black BMW ahead called out. Megan’s eyes remained fixed on the house; the weathered brick exterior. The wide, covered porch stretches across the front, its paint peeling at the edges and floorboards creaking under the weight of time.

“I just need a minute” was all Megan could muster in response.

“Megan, you deserve better. This is just a house. It was never a home. You must realise this?” The calm voice pleaded.

Megan knew the voice was right. This house had been more like a prison than a home.

A place of terror and misery for the past five years.

A muted witness to the suffering that took place behind closed doors.

But even now with the memories of her abuse flashing before her; Megan felt a deep sorrow to leave this place. This decaying dwelling holding within its walls the haunting echoes of a life marred by fear and pain.