Chapter 20 - Nobody Gets Left Off the List
When I finally left Redhaven, the sky was the bright blue of a day that had never heard of prison. I had completed the term the court required after a lawful review of my case. The gate opened without music, without photographers, and without somebody announcing I was innocent of every decision I'd made.
Leah stood beside Rae in the visitors' lot. She had a brace on one hand and a smile that started trembling the moment she saw me.
We met halfway across the pavement. I held her carefully at first, afraid of the old injuries. Then she wrapped her arms around me so hard I couldn't breathe.
"Don't disappear again," I whispered.
"You first," she said.
We went to a diner outside town. It was ordinary: thick coffee mugs, a waitress calling everybody honey, a plate of eggs nobody could dump on the floor.
Leah told me she'd taken a quieter job helping survivors navigate benefits and compensation claims. She still woke sometimes expecting a door to be locked. Others wanted no part of interviews or headlines. They had that right.
Rae updated us on the court proceedings. Several defendants had entered guilty pleas, while others were awaiting trial. Restitution claims and civil cases were moving slowly. Independent monitoring had been ordered for Redhaven's medical transfers. The ledger of names remained evidence.
"And Morgane?" Leah asked.
"She testified," Rae said. "She's still serving her sentence and helping new arrivals file grievances. It's a beginning, not an eraser."
Morgane had demanded I kneel. That led to a warehouse and women reduced to entries in an account.
Leah watched me break my toast into pieces. "What are you thinking about?"
"How close I came to believing that number was all I needed."
"It was enough to start," she said. "After that we needed people willing to tell the truth."
A waitress arrived carrying a fresh pot of coffee. Her hand bumped my water glass, and it tipped, spilling across the table. She flinched and reached for a towel.
"I'm so sorry," she said.
I caught the glass before it fell. Then I stood and helped her clean up the mess.
"It's okay," I told her. "Nobody has to get on their knees for an accident."
Leah smiled, and for the first time in a very long time, I heard no lock turning behind the sound.
Outside in the sunshine, 24701 remained part of our story. It would never stand in for the people who had suffered beneath it.
May you like
I took my sister's hand.
This time, we both made it home.
