Every day he not only beat me but also poured boiling water on me, roaring, ""I'll boil your belly until a son comes out!""

Evelyn arrived shortly after sunrise.

I knew she was in the hallway long before the door opened. I could hear the rapid cadence of her footsteps, followed by a hushed, frantic conversation with Nurse Marissa. Then, a heavy pause outside my room. Evelyn always hesitated before opening doors when she was afraid of what she might find on the other side.

The door clicked and swung inward.

She looked older. Of course she did; six years had passed since Luke had banned her from our house. Her hair was shorter now, threaded with silver near her temples, and she wore a heavy winter coat over clothes that looked like she’d slept in them. She gripped her car keys so tightly her knuckles were white.

For several agonizing seconds, we just stared at each other across the sterile room.

Then, she moved. She didn't throw her arms around me—she saw the thick, white burn dressings covering my chest and stopped herself. Instead, she reached out and placed her hand gently over my ankle through the hospital blanket.

"I’m here," she whispered, her voice breaking.

I started crying before I could form a word. Evelyn cried too, silent, heavy tears that fell onto the sheets.

"I thought you hated me," I sobbed, the confession tearing out of my raw throat. "Luke said you were done trying. He said you wanted me to stop calling."

Evelyn’s face contorted in shock. "What?"

"He showed me text messages. You said you were tired of my drama."

"I never sent those," Evelyn said, her voice hardening with sudden, fierce anger. "I sent messages every single week for two years, Carrie. I called until the number was disconnected."

"I never got them," I whispered, the realization settling like lead in my stomach.

Evelyn pulled a chair close to the bed and sat down, refusing to let go of my ankle. "After your number changed, I called Luke. He told me your therapist recommended cutting off toxic family members. He said contact with me was making your depression worse."