I tried to put a shirt in between the door and the frame to You Don’t Stop Mowing When You Get Old You Get Old When You Stop Moving Vintage shirt . and it worked! I tried pushing it and it did not open easily, so I relaxed and thought this is what I will do today. Then I went to my room, I put the shirt as I practiced before and I relaxed a little bit, took a shower, I took my time to put body lotion, I was naked ready to put my underwear when he opened the door, he stood there silently, staring at me and I panicked and froze, I couldn´t even say anything, I felt intimidated and thought the worst, but he closed the door and left. Never contemplating that it would hold her, that it would preserve the evidence of violence and vehemence perpetrated against her, that it would become the token of her and our fear of what lurked in the dark outside. As I held that napkin, and spoke to the police, asking them to get me a restraining order, asking them for help, opening my palm to show them the proof that my mother had been assaulted, that someone had dared pierce the sanctity of our home and the life she had fought so hard to build and rebuild, something in me shifted. But seeing my mother that night, witnessing the color her irises turned at the memory of fear, seeing the veins on her pale hands outline the edges of her bruises.