“I’m choosing to believe her,” I corrected.

He didn’t argue. He didn’t shout. He just walked down the steps and got into the truck. He didn’t even look at me as he started the engine. The sound was loud and abrasive in the quiet evening. I watched the taillights fade into the darkness of the trees.

I went back inside and locked the door, but the house felt even colder than it did before. I sat on the sofa and waited for the phone to ring. I told myself I had done the right thing. I told myself that by keeping her, I was saving her soul.

But an hour later, the police cruiser pulled into my driveway. Two officers walked up to the porch, their flashlights cutting through the dark. They didn’t come to arrest me. They came to tell me that Randall had filed for emergency guardianship of Camille, claiming I was an unfit influence.

The irony hit me like a physical blow. I thought I was protecting her from being locked away, but by refusing to sign, I had forced him to take the legal path that would make it impossible for me to ever see her again. She wasn’t going to a facility four hours away. She was going to a juvenile detention center while the courts decided who was the safer guardian.

I had tried to keep her in the spare room. I had tried to keep her with me.

But because I wouldn’t play by his rules, I had lost the right to even have her in my life at all. I sat in the dark, the sound of the police sirens fading into the distance, and I realized that in trying to save her, I had become the reason she was finally, truly alone.