Chapter 6 - A New Dawn
The morning sun washed through the kitchen window, casting long, golden beams across the wooden table where the leather folder had once rested.
My reflection in the microwave door showed a thin, purple bruise forming around the white bandage on my forehead, but my eyes were clear, bright, and fiercely alive.
The phone on the counter buzzed. It was an unknown number, but I knew whose it was. I let it ring. It went to voicemail, then buzzed again. And again.
I picked it up, opened the settings, and blocked the number without listening to a single second of whatever desperate, pleading message Tyler had recorded.
Then I walked out to the front porch, cup of coffee in hand, to check the mail.
The morning air was crisp and smelled of autumn leaves and damp earth. Across the street, Mrs. Gable, my neighbor of thirty years, was sweeping her front steps. When she saw me, she paused, her eyes widening slightly as she spotted the bandage on my forehead.
"Margaret!" she called out, hurrying across the lawn with her broom in hand. "Good gracious, what happened to your head? I saw police cars here last night! Are you alright?"
I took a slow sip of my coffee, feeling the warm liquid soothe my throat.
"I'm better than alright, Martha," I said, offering her a genuine, unburdened smile. "I finally cleaned house."
Martha blinked, taking in my calm expression and the quiet strength in my posture. A slow, knowing grin spread across her weathered face.
"Well," she said, leaning on her broom handle. "If you need help moving anything out—or moving anyone out—you know who to call. I've got a whole shed full of tools and zero patience for nonsense."
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"I'll keep that in mind," I laughed, the sound bright and clear in the morning light.
For the first time in my life, I wasn't carrying anyone else's weight. The house was mine. My memories were mine. My future—however many years God decided to grant me—was entirely my own.
