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It’s a leather bracelet. Words are stamped on it.
MY DEMONS DO NOT CONTROL ME.
“I thought it could be a reminder for you,” she says hesitantly. “I mean, you probably don’t need a reminder, but it never hurts, right?”
“It’s perfect,” I tell her as I snap it onto my wrist. “I’ll wear it every day.”
“You will?”
“I will,” I nod. “Of course I will.”
I follow her out of the bedroom and I glance at my wrist. The words stare back at me, wise and true.
My demons don’t control me.
Not anymore.
I’m going to live a sober, healthy, happy life, surrounded by people I love.
I’m worth it.
Epilogue
Mila
Seven months later
Sometimes, I’m still jumpy in the night.
It’s normal, they tell me. When a person has gone through what we did, with a person invading our home, it’s impossible to not think of it at times.
I usually think of it in the night, when things go bump or shadows move on the walls.
We live in a gated community with a guard, and our home has a state of the art security system, so there is no reason to fear. We’re more careful now, about the people we allow into our lives. We have to be.
I walk down the hall to the baby’s room. “Shhhh, Ethan,” I tell him, as I pick him u
p out of his crib. “It’s ok, babe. It’s ok.”
I settle into the rocker nearby, and rock him as I nurse.
I hum a lullaby, and stare down at his sweet little face.
He already looks like Pax. He has his nose, his eyes. Even the cleft in his chin. I love that. I rock him, and hold him tight, and sing and sing, until his belly is finally full and he falls back to sleep in my arms.
His room is soothing and quiet, a calm green with cream colored furniture. It’s perfect for a baby, and it’s only steps from our own bedroom. I take a deep breath and inhale the honeysuckle scent. We’d had honeysuckle planted all around the house and it had taken root and grown like crazy. I must’ve left the window open earlier.
I tuck the baby back into his crib, and ponder the past few months.
Leroy had finally been tied to Natasha’s crimes, and he will never taste freedom again. Pax has gone back to work, and he’s still sober and strong. He goes to narcotics anonymous meetings, and he’s still in therapy.
He’s putting in the work.
We’re happier than we’ve ever been, and now our little family is complete. Ethan sleeps peacefully in his crib as proof, his little hand curled up under his cheek.
I bend over the railing and kiss him on his head, inhaling his sweet smell.
There’s nothing better than that smell.
