Every morning, I brewed my coffee and sat by the window. I watched the city wake up, a place of millions of strangers, and I realized that I felt more connected to them than I ever had to the people who shared my blood.
Ronnie thrived in the quiet. He stopped screaming about lawyers and started whistling a tune I’d been playing on the piano. He chirped one morning, “Free bird! No bugs! Guess who’s begging?”
“Who, Ronnie?” I asked, grinning into my mug.
“Vicky! Mommy! Bribe, bribe!”
I burst out laughing—a deep, freeing sound that echoed through the rooms. My life was finally my own, and the only voice I had to listen to was a parrot who knew the truth.
But the storm had one final, desperate surge before it broke for good.
Chapter 6: The Fresh Start
Three weeks into my new life, an email slipped into my inbox from an old high school friend, Jacob.
“Hey, heard about the family drama. Sorry, man. If you want a fresh start, I’ve got a project I’m working on in Seattle. Could use someone reliable. Someone who actually knows the value of a dollar.”
I stared at the screen. Reliable. Capable. Whole. These were words I hadn’t associated with myself in years. I had been “the fool,” “the ATM,” “the easy target.”
I replied within minutes. “I’m in.”
I began to pack. I didn’t take much. I sold the furniture that reminded me of them. I swapped out the heavy curtains for sheer linen that let the light in. My apartment began to look like a place where a person lived, not just where a victim survived.
The day before I moved, one final letter arrived. There was no return address, but I recognized my mother’s flowery, sprawling script. I didn’t open it. I didn’t need to hear about her failing health or my sister’s “terrible state.” I knew the script by heart.
I tossed it into the trash can.
Ronnie watched me from his travel cage, his beady eyes bright with intelligence. “Let go! Fly free! Peace at last!”
