The mental landscape of her escape was as vivid and terrifying as the physical journey. She replayed the clandestine drive through the moonless night, the gnawing fear that propelled her forward, the constant, agonizing question of whether she had done enough, whether she had truly left him behind. Her senses, honed to a razor's edge by months of terror, were now permanently on high alert. The slightest creak of a floorboard in their new home sent a jolt of adrenaline through her. The shifting patterns of sunlight cast by the afternoon sun transformed familiar objects into monstrous shapes in her peripheral vision. These were not mere memories; they were palpable presences, spectres she battled daily, pushing them back into the shadows with sheer force of will. She had to be strong, not just for herself, but for Leo. His innocent trust was a fragile thing, and she was its sole guardian.