For months, I had been unable to leave without looking back several times.
This time, I looked back once.
Harper was safe.
The locks were changed.
The key was gone.
The lies had been recorded, compared, and broken apart.
The people who called cruelty discipline no longer had a place inside our home.
My daughter shifted beneath her blanket and made a soft sound.
I returned immediately, because that was what Janice had never understood.
Answering a baby’s cry does not make her weak.
It teaches her that the person she loves will come when the darkness becomes frightening.
I rested my hand on Harper’s back until she settled.
Then I stayed beside her—not because fear controlled me, but because trust had survived, and I intended to protect it.
