Chapter 18 - Restraining Orders and Freedom
|
One week after the night I crawled through the coal chute, I was officially discharged from St. Jude Emergency Center.
I walked out of the sliding glass doors on my own strength, supported by my crutches, my head held high under the bright morning sunlight. Evelyn was waiting at the curb in her sleek black sedan, holding the door open for me.
My first stop wasn't a hotel or a friend’s house. It was Derek’s house—or rather, what used to be Derek’s house.
Accompanied by two court-appointed locksmiths and a team of movers provided by my foundation, I oversaw the complete removal of my personal belongings.
The house was cold, quiet, and smelled faintly of forensic dusting powder.
I stood in the kitchen where I had laid three days prior, looking at the clean tile floor where the blood had been scrubbed away by crime scene techs. I felt no fear, no grief, and no longing. Only an icy, unshakeable sense of closure.
I watched as the locksmiths changed every deadbolt on the exterior doors, installing a high-tech security system that was linked directly to the police department’s emergency dispatch center.
Under the terms of the court order, Derek and his parents were barred from coming within one thousand feet of the property, my workplace, or my presence for the rest of their natural lives.
As the movers loaded my final trunk of clothes into the van, Evelyn handed me a thick brown envelope.
May you like
“What’s this?” I asked.
“The deed to the house,” Evelyn smiled. “The court granted you sole title as preliminary restitution for the stolen trust funds.”
