There is evidence beyond your memory.”

The child in the tree had already given me something my husband never allowed me: the possibility of being believed.

<strong>PART 3: The Two Girls Waiting for Me</strong>

Dana met me the following morning, carrying an ordinary canvas bag and speaking as if I were a person who could still make decisions.

She introduced herself as a victim advocate, then asked whether I wanted the door closed.

“Yes,” I said immediately.