I had not understood, two weeks ago, what it meant.

But twenty years of my grandmother’s training had set off an alarm too loud to ignore, and so, telling no one, I had done what that training told me to do.

I had started watching.

I had put a camera where no one would look for one, and I had said nothing, and I had waited to understand.

And now that camera had been recording, steadily, the entire time.

It had been recording when Beatrice knocked out my crutch.