Chapter 14
I returned home that evening feeling utterly defeated. The boy—whom the nurses had temporarily named Sam—remained completely unresponsive. I sat at the kitchen table, staring blankly at a cold cup of coffee, when Lily walked into the room. She was wearing her favorite oversized sweater and carrying a textbook, but she dropped it on the counter when she saw my face.
"What's wrong?" she asked, immediately sensing the shift in my demeanor.
"It's a tough case at work," I said, trying to force a reassuring smile. "Nothing you need to worry about, sweetheart."
Lily narrowed her eyes, pulling out a chair and sitting directly across from me. "Dad, don't do that. Don't use the 'everything is fine' voice. You only use that voice when something is very, very bad. Lucy told me about the boy."
I sighed, rubbing my temples. "Lucy shouldn't be discussing active cases with you, Lily. You're fifteen. You have enough on your plate with school and college prep."
"Lucy didn't tell me details," Lily countered fiercely. "She just said you found a kid who won't talk. A kid who draws."
She paused, her eyes searching my face. "He draws black windows, doesn't he?"
I froze. I hadn't mentioned the black windows to anyone outside the investigation. "How did you know that?"
"Because when you're trapped in a place where the adults won't let you see the sky, the windows aren't glass anymore," Lily whispered, her voice carrying a profound, haunting maturity. "They're just black walls. I want to meet him, Dad."
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"Absolutely not," I said, standing up. "It's too dangerous, and it's too triggering for you. I won't let you drag yourself back into that darkness."
"I'm not being dragged," Lily stood up, matching my height, her posture unwavering. "I'm choosing to walk in. You spent years telling me my voice matters. Let me use it. I know what he's feeling. You know how to fix broken bones, Dad, but I know how to fix broken doors. Please. Let me try."
