“That’s it, get out of this house.” Mom stands and moves toward me. I don’t need to know what happens if I say no. I’ve said what I came to say.

“I’m sorry,” I mouth to Lydia and Kitty. I need to leave. I haven’t gotten my things or even the papers to the trailer that I came for, but I’ll have to figure out another way. There’s no way I can force my way into the bedroom and start going through things. Even if I technically still own this trailer, my mother will find a way to punish me or my sisters. I hadn’t planned for things to go like this, but I know I’ve done the right thing. I’ve given my sisters an alternative to the life they have. Hopefully, I’ve planted a seed, given them something to think about, convinced them that life beyond this trailer and Mom is possible.

Mom steps toward me, and I back away. She grins, like my acquiescence fuels her power—like she’s only happy when I’m weak. Except I’m not. Not anymore. Because I’ve found a place where I’m free of her.

I bolt out the door, sick to my stomach with the scent of orange and the hatred in my mother’s eyes.

I get to the bottom of the steps and am about to head to the exit to call a cab when something catches my eye. I turn my head to see Marion at the window. She’s waving furiously at me. When she sees I’ve spotted her, she points her fingers down.

I can hear my mother shouting inside the trailer. Marion drops the curtain and disappears.

I glance down where she was pointing and see something on the ground, outside the bedroom window. It looks like she’s dropped a bag of something—two bags of⁠—

I race over and realize Marion has stuffed my belongings in trash bags and dropped them out the window. Mom didn’t burn all my stuff. I don’t know if she thinks she did or if she was bluffing, but Marion saved this for me.

As quick as I can, I gather up the spilled items. I don’t stop to examine anything, but it feels like I’m stuffing an entire lifetime of memories into two shopping bags. School pins, greeting cards, the odd certificate. A high school diploma. I pick up the bags and scramble to the exit of the park before I call an Uber. I don’t want there to be a chance Mom figures out I have everything I need from that trailer. There’s nothing more I want from her.