Who Taught You That

Strength doesn’t begin with your fists. It begins the moment you stop justifying the unjustifiable.”

I took a deep breath.

“In position.”

The floor shook with the sound of the whole class stepping forward together.

And in that sound, I understood that my father’s legacy had ended with me. Camryn’s could end with Marvin too, if he kept choosing it. Fear had traveled easily for years — house to house, parent to child, wound to silence.

But strength travels the same way. Teacher to student. Survivor to survivor. One woman getting up off the floor to the next one standing beside her.

And that, I decided, is the only family tradition worth keeping.

THE END.