They had seen me thrown outside.
And they stayed where they were.
Dad tossed my purse onto the porch.
“Come back when you’re ready to sell.”
Then he shut the door.
The rain was already coming down.
It tapped against the porch and soaked into my clothes as I sat on the wet concrete with one hand against my neck.
My shoulder throbbed where it had struck the railing.
My fingers would not stop shaking.
For a few moments, my instincts were still stuck in the old pattern.
Part of me wanted to pound on the door.
Part of me wanted Mom to open it and say everything had gone too far.
Part of me wanted Emily to step outside and tell me she had never asked for this.
I wanted someone in that house to prove I had misunderstood what had just happened.
Then I saw the tiny green light blinking on the strap of my purse.
