He shouts, “They’re lying!” He spits my name like it’s poison.
But I don’t flinch.
Because now the truth has witnesses.
Child Protective Services comes for Lucy.
My mother clings to her, sobbing. “Please don’t take her,” she begs. “She’s all we have.”
The social worker’s voice is gentle but firm. “We’re not taking her away forever,” she says. “We’re taking her somewhere safe. And we’ll work with you.”
Lucy looks at me with huge eyes.
I kneel beside her. “You did the bravest thing anyone could do,” I whisper. “You told the truth.”
Her lip trembles. “Will he come back?”
My throat tightens. “No,” I promise. “Not to hurt you.”
She nods slowly, like she wants to believe me but isn’t used to promises being real.
That night, I don’t sleep.
I set up space heaters. I buy groceries. I hire a nurse to check on my father.
I hold my mother’s hands and realize how small they’ve become.
My father keeps repeating the same sentence over and over, like he’s trying to scrub the shame off his soul.
“We didn’t want to be a burden,” he says.
I swallow hard. “You’re not a burden,” I tell him. “You’re my reason.”
Over the next few weeks, I do what I should have done years ago.