AFTER MONTHS OF MY DAUGHTER “HELPING” WITH MY BILLS, HIDING MY BANK STATEMENTS, TAKING MY DEBIT CARD

none.

What I felt that evening was not victory.

It was exhaustion.
And grief.
And the unfamiliar shape of relief.

Alyssa did not come back that night. She did not call either.

The next morning my phone buzzed once with a text.

I need space.

I read it twice, not because it was complicated, but because of the irony. Space. The word she had denied me so steadily continue reading …