“Do you ever wish you had told me what your family was like sooner,” Beau asked.
I shook my head. “No. I needed to understand who I was before I understood what we were.”
He smiled in a way that reached his eyes. Sometimes, Denise sends messages. They are tentative. Awkward. Sometimes apologetic. I no longer build expectations around them. I do not measure my worth by her ability to see it.
I learned something I wish I had known at sixteen. Blood does not guarantee loyalty. Love does not need an audience. Silence can be a boundary that protects instead of isolates.
One crisp morning, I stood at the entrance of our building with my backpack slung over my shoulder. I was heading to class. As I locked the door behind me, clarity settled like sunlight.
It was never Beau who frightened my family. It was the moment I stopped believing that I deserved their cruelty. That realization was the beginning of my freedom. And that freedom is something no one will ever cut away from me again.
