Chapter 8

College was hard. And wonderful.

I lived in a dorm. I had a roommate — a girl named Maya, who became my best friend. I had a meal plan. All you can eat. The first month, I ate everything. I gained fifteen pounds. The doctor said it was healthy. My body was recovering.

I called Dad every night. Caleb and Ava texted me constantly. They were doing well. Caleb was captain of the football team. Ava was in a dance competition. Dad was dating — a woman named Helen, a teacher at Ava's school. She was kind. She was steady. The kids liked her.

I studied social work. I volunteered at a shelter for homeless youth. I started a food pantry on campus. I worked at a crisis hotline. I was busy. I was happy.

But some nights, I'd wake up scared. I'd dream about the lock. About the trash can. About Vanessa's smile. I'd run to the dorm kitchen. I'd open the refrigerator. I'd stare at the food. And I'd remember — I'm safe. I'm fed. I'm loved.

Maya would find me there sometimes. She'd sit with me. She wouldn't ask questions. She'd just — be there.

One night, she said, "You know you're safe now, right?"

I nodded. "I know. But sometimes my body forgets."

"That's okay," she said. "Your body went through something terrible. It's allowed to remember. As long as you keep reminding it that it's over."

I held onto that.

I went home for Thanksgiving. Dad had made dinner. Turkey. Stuffing. Mashed potatoes. Pies. The table was full. Helen was there. Caleb. Ava. Grandma. The house smelled like food and love.

I sat at the table. I looked at the plates. At the food. At my family. And I thought about that night — the chicken in the trash, the lock on the fridge, my father's face when he saw.

That night had broken us. But it had also saved us. It had woken Dad up. It had freed Caleb and Ava. It had freed me.

Dad raised his glass. "I want to make a toast," he said. "To family. To second chances. To never going to bed hungry again."

We all raised our glasses. We clinked. We drank.

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And I looked around that table — at my father, at my brother, at my sister, at Helen, at my grandma — and I felt it.

Home.