Chapter 6
I was terrified of talking to Ms. Harris.
She sat across from me in the living room with a small notebook on her lap.
Dad was nearby.
Grandma sat in the kitchen.
The house felt strangely quiet.
Ms. Harris had a gentle voice.
She didn't rush.
She didn't look angry.
But I still felt like I was being tested.
"What happens if I say something wrong?" I whispered.
She smiled softly.
"You can take your time. If you don't remember something, it's okay to say that."
I looked at my hands.
"Will Vanessa know what I say?"
Ms. Harris answered carefully.
"Information may need to be shared with people responsible for protecting you. I'll explain what I can about that process."
I swallowed.
Then I nodded.
She began with simple questions.
How old was I?
What grade was I in?
What did I like doing after school?
I told her I loved drawing.
I liked reading mystery books.
And I wanted to become a veterinarian someday.
She smiled.
"That sounds wonderful."
Then she asked about dinner.
My chest tightened.
I told her about the chicken bones.
The bread.
The locked refrigerator.
The nights I went to sleep hungry.
Sometimes I stopped speaking because I started crying.
Ms. Harris waited.
She never told me to hurry.
Eventually, she asked whether Vanessa had ever threatened me.
I nodded.
"What did she say?"
I stared at the carpet.
"She said Dad would stop loving me if I kept causing problems."
My voice shook.
"And she said she'd send me away."
Ms. Harris wrote something down.
I began trembling.
"Am I in trouble?"
She immediately looked up.
"No, Maya."
I started crying.
"I don't want to leave Dad."
She leaned forward.
"Your father has told us he's working to keep you safe. My role is to understand what happened and what support you need."
I looked toward the kitchen doorway.
Dad stood there.
His eyes were full of tears.
He opened his arms.
I ran to him.
He held me tightly.
"I'm here, baby."
I buried my face against his shirt.
"Please don't let her take me."
He kissed my hair.
"You're staying with me."
For several minutes, he simply held me.
Then Ms. Harris explained the next steps to Dad.
There would be follow-up conversations.
Reviews of the available records.
And a safety plan to make sure Vanessa couldn't continue mistreating me.
Dad agreed to everything.
After Ms. Harris left, he sat beside me.
"You were very brave."
I shook my head.
"I cried."
He smiled sadly.
"Brave people cry too."
I thought about that.
Then I leaned against him.
For the first time, I wasn't ashamed of telling the truth.
Over the next several weeks, our lives changed.
Dad arranged regular appointments with a child therapist named Dr. Renee Wilson.
At first, I barely spoke to her.
She had a small office filled with colorful pillows and books.
She let me draw pictures.
Sometimes we played simple games.
Sometimes I talked about school.
And sometimes I cried.
One afternoon, she asked me to draw a family dinner.
I picked up a brown crayon.
I drew our dining table.
Then I drew Vanessa sitting on one side.
Dad on the other.
And myself in the corner.
My plate was empty.
Dr. Wilson studied the picture.
"Can you tell me about Maya in this drawing?"
I shrugged.
"She's hungry."
"How does she feel?"
I looked down.
"Scared."
"Why?"
"Because she doesn't know if she's allowed to ask for food."
Dr. Wilson nodded.
Then she asked something surprising.
"If you could change the picture, what would you change?"
I stared at the paper.
For a long time, I didn't move.
Then I picked up a yellow crayon.
I drew a big plate of food in front of myself.
I added Grandma beside me.
Then I drew Dad smiling.
Finally, I erased Vanessa.
Dr. Wilson looked at the new picture.
"How does Maya feel now?"
I stared at the paper.
Then I whispered, "Safe."
She smiled.
"That's important."
That evening, I showed Dad the drawing.
He studied it.
Then he pulled me into his arms.
"I love it."
I looked at him.
"Even though Vanessa isn't there?"
His eyes filled.
"Especially because you drew what makes you feel safe."
I smiled.
He placed the picture on the refrigerator.
Right beside my spelling test.
I got every word right.
Dad made a celebration out of it.
He bought a little cake.
Grandma brought balloons.
And for the first time in months, I ate dessert without asking permission.
But the happiness didn't last uninterrupted.
One Friday afternoon, Dad received a call from Angela.
I was sitting at the kitchen table doing homework.
He answered.
Then his expression changed.
"What do you mean?"
He listened.
Then slowly sat down.
"Are you certain?"
A pause.
"Send me the records."
He ended the call.
Grandma looked at him.
"Marcus?"
Dad stared at the phone.
"Vanessa has been contacting Willow Creek again."
My stomach dropped.
I gripped my pencil.
"Is she trying to send me away?"
Dad immediately looked at me.
"No, sweetheart."
Then he turned toward Grandma.
"She's claiming that I agreed to the placement."
Grandma shook her head.
"After everything?"
Dad nodded grimly.
"She submitted another document."
I began trembling.
"What document?"
Dad looked at me.
Then at Grandma.
His voice became quiet.
"A written statement claiming Maya is unsafe to remain at home."
I started crying.
Dad moved toward me immediately.
But before he reached my chair, his phone rang again.
Angela.
He answered.
Then froze.
"What?"
His face drained of color.
"Who signed it?"
A long silence followed.
Then he whispered, "That's impossible."
I stared at him.
He ended the call.
Grandma stood.
"Marcus, what happened?"
Dad looked toward me.
His eyes were filled with disbelief.
"The new statement has another signature."
My stomach tightened.
"Whose?"
He swallowed.
May you like
"Grandma Evelyn's."
And suddenly, even Grandma looked frightened.
