Talk.
So they had planned that too. A gentle talk after the drive. Another room where everyone knew what my life was before I arrived.
I nodded and walked upstairs.
No one followed.
Maybe they were cowards. They thought waiting would be kinder.
My room looked exactly as I had left it.
I closed the door.
Locked it.
Then I broke.
It happened silently at first. One hand over my mouth. Phone clutched in the other. I opened the document again because some destroyed part of me needed to make sure I had read it right. The token ring on my finger blurred until the diamond became only light. I pulled at it once, too hard. It caught at my knuckle.
A sob broke out of my chest.
I sank onto the floor beside the bed, knees drawn up, one hand pressed over my mouth so no one outside could hear. I thought of his hands on me. His voice. Baby. Daddy’s home. My wife. My house tonight.
Had he practiced cruelty until it sounded like love?
My phone began vibrating.
Jamison.
I watched his name appear.
Then disappear.
Then appear again.
I did not answer.
Messages followed.
Jamison: You resting?
Jamison: Baby?
Jamison: Answer me.
Jamison: Sienna.
Another call.
I turned the phone face down on the carpet.
The sky outside shifted from gold to blue to deep Harlan black. At some point someone knocked gently.
“Sienna?” my mother called.
I wiped my face and did not answer.
“Sienna, darling, dinner is at seven. Mr. Crow—”