I didn’t pack much.
That was the first thing that frightened them later.
No screaming.
No smashed dishes.
No desperate begging.
Just silence.
I placed ice against the burn spreading across my cheek while staring at myself in the mirror.
The skin was already blistering.
My own mother had done that.
Not accidentally.
Not in anger she regretted immediately.
Deliberately.
Downstairs, I could hear Violet laughing.
“She finally gave up,” she said smugly.
“I told you she was weak.”
My mother answered without hesitation:
“She should’ve learned years ago that this family survives by helping each other.”
Helping each other.
Interesting phrase for theft.
I calmly opened the small fireproof box hidden behind my closet wall and removed the documents my father had told me never to lose.
The deed.
The trust paperwork.
The notarized inheritance transfer.
And one sealed envelope labeled:
FOR NORA — ONLY IF THEY FORCE YOU OUT.
My chest tightened.
I had never opened it before.
My father gave it to me six months before he died.
At the time, I thought he was being overly cautious.
Now I realized he had seen this coming long before I did.
My hands trembled slightly as I broke the seal.
Inside was a single handwritten note.
Nora,
If you are reading this, then I failed to protect you from them while I was alive.
That sentence alone nearly broke me.
I sat slowly on the edge of the bed.
