I looked at Sara. She was still standing in the doorway, waiting for me to say something. I wanted to hold her. I wanted to tell her it was going to be okay. But I couldn’t move.

Every time I looked at her, I saw the way she had flinched the night before. I saw the fear that had been planted in her by my own flesh and blood.

The house was quiet. Too quiet. The sun was starting to peek through the kitchen window, casting long, harsh shadows across the floor.

I looked down at the letter one more time. The final line was scrawled in the corner of the page. It was the only part of the letter that didn’t sound like an apology. It sounded like a promise.

“You’re never really alone,” it said.

I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to reach her. I didn’t know if I ever would. I just stood there in the silence, watching the dust motes dance in the morning light, feeling the walls of the house closing in on me.

Sara took a tentative step toward me, then stopped. She was waiting for me to make the next move, but I didn’t have one. I was a stranger in my own home, holding a letter that had rewritten everything I thought I knew.

I looked at the back door. It was still cracked open. The wind was blowing through the screen, making it creak rhythmically. I watched the door. I waited for something to change. I waited for the feeling in my chest to shift, but it just stayed there, heavy and hollow.

I looked at Sara again. Her eyes were searching mine, looking for a sign, for a way back to the before.

I didn’t have a sign to give her. I didn’t have anything at all.

I turned and walked toward the hallway. I didn’t look back to see if she followed. I just walked, my boots echoing on the hardwood, heading toward the front door that I had been so desperate to walk through just twelve hours ago. I didn’t know where I was going, but I knew I couldn’t stay in the kitchen anymore.

The front door was heavy. I grabbed the handle and pulled it open, letting the cool morning air hit my face. I stepped out onto the porch and just stood there, looking out at the neighborhood that looked exactly the same as when I left.

I left the door open behind me. I didn’t turn around to close it. I just stood there, breathing in the air, waiting for the world to start moving again.