No amount of packet mix cake could make that a day worth celebrating.
So I have to try.
???
Pushing my way through the fly strips, a grin spreads across my face.
The rusty Hills Hoist washing line is still there in the far corner.
It was the closest thing I ever had to a swing set.
I’d spin round and round until I was dizzy.
Never invited other kids to visit.
Not hard to guess why.
But now the back yard has been transformed into a vege patch.
She's created three mesh tunnels to protect her crops from pesky critters.
And drunks.
I turn instinctively to look back toward the driveway one last time.
Still no sign of him.
From this side of the house, it will be harder to keep an eye on the front door.
But the fresh air is a welcome change from being cooped up inside those four walls.
It’s not just the putrid stink, or the overstimulation of clutter.
It’s the memories pressing in from every side.
The way this house and that man still make me feel so small and worthless.
With the courage I’ve found during my sessions with Sam, I can almost bear it.
In small doses.
Especially with Amos by my side.
Having him here is a living reminder that I’m free and loved.
That I can leave at any moment.
I see little Mark staring out through the window behind me, trapped in the squalor.
He’s afraid to make a sound.
He hides behind the curtain.
Men are scary to him.
Come play in the garden,I whisper.I promise I’ll keep you safe.
But little Mark turns to watch the door.
