Nobody sat on her bed with her arms wrapped tight around herself. The house was quiet now. No more slamming doors. No more loud voices. Raindrops still clung to the window, trembling in the dark.
She turned her head and peeked at her pillow. Someone had left a small soft toy there. On its head was a paper crown — crooked, bright yellow, completely lopsided.
Nobody picked the toy up. She studied the silly crown. Then she laughed — just once, a small burst of sound that surprised even her. She held the toy close against her chest.
Nobody hugged the toy close and tried to say the words. 'It's okay,' she whispered. Her voice cracked on the first word. She swallowed and tried again, softer this time. 'It's okay.'
The toy's button eyes caught the nightlight and seemed to nod back at her. Nobody pressed her cheek against the soft fabric and breathed in, slowly. And out, slowly.
Nobody set the toy on the windowsill where the rain could see it. The paper crown stayed perfectly crooked. She turned back to her bed and pulled the blanket up over her shoulders.
She closed her eyes. The room went very still. The refrigerator hummed somewhere far away. Her breathing grew slow and even, step by step, deeper and calmer.
Nobody let the quiet fill the room. Outside, the last drops of rain tapped against the glass — tick, tick, tick. She was safe. She was okay.