No music rose. No thunder sounded. Nothing supernatural waited in the sand. There was only wind, scrub brush, and the simple fact of distance.
Ruth stood next to me. “You okay?”
I thought about seventeen-year-old Erin. Furious. Terrified. Certain that being unwanted meant being worthless.
“I’m here,” I said.
Ruth nodded. “That counts.”
Before we left, I placed a bottle of water beside the fence post. Not as a memorial. Not as forgiveness. Only as proof that someone could choose differently on that same road.
Then I climbed back into the truck and drove away by choice.
This time, no one left me behind.
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