“And that’s supposed to make this better?”
Megan, who had been leaning against the porch railing like she came to watch your humiliation, suddenly straightens. Her arms drop to her sides. She looks at the deputy, then at the phone still recording in your hand.
For the first time since she arrived, she looks afraid.
You step onto the porch.
Aunt Ruth reaches for you, but stops before touching you, as if she knows your whole body has become one raw bruise.
“Oh, honey,” she whispers.
That nearly breaks you.
Not Jason’s yelling.
Not Megan’s laugh.
Kindness.
Kindness is what threatens to put you on the floor.
Mr. Thompson turns to the deputy. “I believe you have enough to enter.”
Jason barks, “Enter? You can’t just come into my wife’s house.”
The deputy looks at him. “Actually, we received a call reporting a possible domestic assault and coercion involving legal documents. Given the visible injury and the active recording, I’m going to need you to step outside.”
Jason’s eyes dart to you.
“You called them?”
You stare at him through your split lip.
“No.”
Mr. Thompson answers for you.
“I did.”
