Chapter 7 - The Day I Took Back My HouseThree months later, I returned home.
The first time I walked through the front door after the attack, I stopped.
Everything looked the same.
The kitchen.
The table.
The cabinets.
The place where I had fallen.
For a moment, I couldn't breathe.
Then I heard Lily crying from the living room.
She was almost six months old.
Healthy.
Strong.
Alive.
I picked her up.
"You're home."
I looked around.
"This is your home too."
Sarah stood nearby.
"Are you sure?"
I nodded.
"My father left this place to me."
I walked into the kitchen.
The stockpot was gone.
The damaged tiles had been replaced.
The walls had been repainted.
But I knew what had happened here.
And I refused to let that memory own the house.
I opened the back door.
Sunlight filled the room.
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For the first time, the kitchen didn't feel like a crime scene.
It felt like mine.
