CROSS HOUSE
DIGNITY IS NOT NEGOTIABLE
Below it, in smaller letters:
In memory of Daniel Michael Mercer, whose name was returned to the truth.
At Marjorie’s sentencing, I kept my statement brief.
“You tried to teach me obedience,” I told her.
“Instead, you taught me the cost of silence. I will spend the rest of my life helping someone else speak sooner.”
Nolan served his own sentence.
He sent one letter.
I did not open it.
Lenora filed it where it belonged.
Evidence.
By the following winter, my hair had reached my chin.
One morning, I cut it short again.
Not because someone forced me.
Because I liked it.
Choice transformed even scissors into freedom.
On the anniversary of the night Marjorie entered my bedroom, I came home after a long day at headquarters.
Rain tapped the windows.
A lamp glowed inside the office that had once held our bed.
