Chapter 13
After the trial, I sold the house.
People told me to wait.
To not make big decisions in grief.
But Sophie still stared at the hallway where the closet had been.
I needed a place with no bad room.
We bought a smaller house near Margaret and Thomas.
Sophie chose yellow curtains.
Megan helped paint.
Mrs. Bell moved with us, though she claimed she was “too old for fresh starts.”
Sophie hugged her.
“You come too.”
Mrs. Bell cried into the paint tray.
In the new house, every door opened easily.
No locks on closets.
No hiding places that felt like punishment.
Sophie helped make a snack drawer she could reach anytime.
At first, she checked it ten times a day.
Then five.
Then once.
Then not at all.
That was healing.
I started therapy too.
I told Dr. Lane I was afraid of my own anger.
She said, “Fear it enough to learn from it. Not enough to hand your power away.”
So I learned.
I apologized to Sophie again for hitting Rachel.
She listened carefully.
“Rachel was bad,” she said.
“Yes.”
“You were wrong.”
“Yes.”
“You stopped.”
“Yes.”
She nodded.
May you like
“Okay.”
Children can hold truth when adults stop hiding it.
