Chapter 11
Marcus and I designed the first shelter together.
The Claire Bennett House. A safe place for women escaping financial abuse.
Thirty-two bedrooms. A legal clinic. A credit-counseling office. A daycare. A job-training center.
It opened on a sunny Saturday in May.
I stood at the front door and cut the ribbon.
Emma was there. My parents were there. Marcus was there.
The first resident moved in that afternoon.
A woman with two children. Her husband had drained her accounts and locked her out.
I showed her to her room.
She looked around. At the bed. The window. The lock on the door.
"Is this really mine?" she asked.
"For as long as you need it," I said.
She cried.
I cried with her.
Because I had been her.
May you like
Not in the same way. But I had been the woman who didn't know she could leave.
And now I was the woman who could help.
