My parents were ordered to provide financial support. Everything was documented. No shouting. No denial. Evan went live several times, calling it a misunderstanding, blaming context, claiming he was attacked. He never apologized.
My life became quieter. Harder in some ways, but honest. Some nights, as I watched Aaron sleep peacefully, I wondered if I had done the right thing.
Then I remembered the mattress on the floor, the staples in my skin, and the words stop playing the victim. And I knew I had chosen truth.
