Chapter 10 - The Unbreakable Perimeter
A year to the day since I sent that desperate three-word text, I hosted a dinner party at my loft.
The space was filled with laughter, the clinking of wine glasses, and the smell of roasted garlic. I had invited Veronica, my lawyer, who had become a fierce friend; my new classmates from my counseling program; and, of course, Dad.
I was standing in the kitchen, pulling a tray of bruschetta out of the oven, when my phone buzzed on the counter. It wasn't a burner phone anymore. It was a new phone, filled with new numbers and new memories.
I glanced at the screen. It was an automated alert from the state penitentiary system.
Inmate David Vance #84920-11 has requested a transfer to a lower-security facility. Request: DENIED.
I stared at the notification for a moment. A year ago, seeing his name would have sent me into a panic attack. My heart would have raced, and my hands would have shaken.
Today? I just felt profound, peaceful indifference.
I swiped the notification away, deleting it from my screen and my mind.
I walked out into the living room, carrying the tray of food. Dad was sitting in the armchair by the window, a genuine smile on his face as he debated politics with Veronica. He looked relaxed. The hyper-vigilant tension he always carried around David was completely gone.
He caught my eye from across the room and raised his glass of sparkling water in a silent toast.
May you like
I raised my glass of wine in return.
I had survived the war in my own home. I had faced the monster and locked him in a cage. And as I looked around the room at the life I had built from the ashes, I knew one thing with absolute certainty: my perimeter would never be breached again.
