Echoes of the Past

"Take your time, Eden," Officer Snyder said gently as she walked with me through the front door. "Even if it doesn't feel like it right now, emotions have a way of surfacing while you pack your things. I'm here for you."

"I'll be fine," I replied, keeping my voice steady. "I already had most of my stuff packed, ready for when I turned eighteen. I was planning to move in with a friend in the city."

"I see," she said, her eyes studying me with quiet curiosity.

I moved through the house, memories threatening to surface, each one more painful than the last. With a hard swallow, I forced them back down. I wasn't going to cry. I wasn't going to feel anything at all.

He couldn't hurt me anymore.

"I'm free," I whispered, the words barely audible but carrying the weight of my resolve.

I walked straight to my room and grabbed my suitcase from the closet. I started pulling clothes off hangers—just the three shirts I had left unpacked and two pairs of pants. I tucked my tennis shoes into the flap of the suitcase and moved on to gathering my bathroom supplies.

Once I'd packed everything I wanted from my room and the bathroom, I decided to search for one last thing before shutting the door on this house forever. I wanted a picture of my mom. I was certain there had to be a photo album somewhere from before she disappeared.

I tore his room apart—nothing. I searched the garage—still nothing. Finally, I pulled down the attic stairs, braving the dust and cobwebs. In the far corner of the attic, hidden beneath years of neglect, was a box labeled with my mom's name. My heart skipped.

I grabbed the box and carried it downstairs, setting it gently on the couch. I stared at it for a long time, trying to summon the courage to open it.

"I could open it for you," Officer Snyder offered, breaking the heavy silence.

"No," I said, shaking my head. "I just need a moment."

Taking a deep, shaky breath, I opened the box. And there she was, staring back at me from a photograph.

I could see the resemblance immediately—our silvery hair, our sky-blue eyes. Her skin was lighter than mine, but we looked so alike we could have been sisters.

"Hi, Mom," I whispered, my voice trembling. Tears streamed down my face, and before I knew it, I was an inconsolable mess. The weight of my grief crushed me, leaving nothing to do but let it run its course.

"He… took… her," I sobbed, my body trembling like a fragile, broken child. "He pushed her, and she fell into the corner of the kitchen table." The memory, buried for so long, resurfaced with brutal clarity, as if I were living it all over again.

"Mom?" I whimpered through my tears. "Mom, please… I'll be good. Just wake up."

I could hear his voice again, cold and cruel, echoing through the haze of my grief.

"Your mother is gone, kid. Get used to it," my father spat as he pulled me to my feet and shoved me out of the kitchen. "She didn't want you."

"You… hurt her," I choked, my sobs barely allowing the words to escape.

"She left you," he sneered, his voice devoid of any remorse. "That means she never cared. Now go to your room before I do the same to you."

Reality hit me like a freight train, and more ugly, hot tears spilled down my cheeks. My body shook uncontrollably, and a scream tore from my throat. He had killed my mother, and deep down, I knew he'd eventually do the same to me. The realization stung more than I wanted to admit. Some twisted, sick part of me still loved my father and wanted his love in return, but I knew—he would never love me.

"Eden," Officer Snyder said softly. "Eden!" she repeated, louder this time. Her hands gripped my shoulders firmly, and she shook me. I stared at her in shock before wiping my tears away with the back of my sleeve.

"Yeah?" I managed, my voice hoarse. I took a shaky breath, trying to calm myself.

"Snap out of it and listen to me," she said, her tone stern but not unkind. I nodded, forcing another breath into my lungs, and met her eyes with determination.

"Good. Now, tell me what you remember."

I swallowed hard, my throat tight with emotion. "They were fighting. It wasn't unusual—they fought all the time—but that day, it was worse. He was mad at her for celebrating my birthday." I paused, steadying myself as fresh tears threatened to fall. "She hit him. Called him a…" I frowned, trying to recall the exact word. "I think she called him a bastard."

"It's okay," Officer Snyder said reassuringly. "Take your time and tell me only what you remember."

I nodded again, my hands trembling in my lap. "Then she slapped him and said she was done. She told him she was taking me and leaving for good this time." My voice cracked, but I pressed on, refusing to let the sob in my chest escape. "He punched her in the face and shoved her. She stumbled back, lost her balance, and hit the corner of the table."

The memory hit me like a tidal wave, and I squeezed my eyes shut. "I can still see her face as she took her last breath. I can still feel the horror in my tiny body as I watched her leave me." My voice was barely a whisper now. "I stayed with her, begging her to wake up."

I took a shaky breath, the words tumbling out in a rush. "He picked me up and carried me to my room. He told me that if I kept blaming him for her being gone, I'd die too."

Officer Snyder's hands rested gently on my shoulders, grounding me. "You're safe now, Eden," she said softly. "I promise you, you're safe."

But as her words lingered in the air, I couldn't shake the weight of my father's threat, a shadow that clung to me, tightening its grip with every breath. "How could I ever be safe?"

"Eden, let's get you to the station. You can make an official statement, and the caseworker will pick you up there," Officer Snyder said. I nodded, unable to find the strength to respond.

After I'd written down everything I could remember from the night I lost my mom, I sat in the lobby of the police station, waiting for the caseworker to arrive. Every so often, someone passing by would glance in my direction, their eyes flickering with curiosity or pity. Other than that, I was left alone with my thoughts.

By the time I finished my vending machine coffee and candy bar, Allison , the caseworker finally arrived. I spotted her right away. Her excited expression and purposeful search of the room gave her away, she'd found me somewhere to stay.

The moment her overly cheerful demeanor met my tired, ready-to-be-done-with-the-day gaze, she nearly bounced toward me. I studied her as she approached, taking in the woman who would soon entrust me to a stranger.

Today, she was dressed down. She wore a plain t-shirt, shorts, and bargain pink sandals. Her rimless, circular glasses perched on her nose, framing her bright eyes. Her coppery hair, obviously dyed, was swept up into a high bun that bobbed slightly with each step.

"I found a family that is willing to take you long term," she said with excitement. "Isn't that exciting?"

"Thrilling," I said sarcastically. "How far is the drive?"

"Terryville," she answered. "So about an hour and a half."

"Of course it is," I muttered as I stood and grabbed my things. "Let's get going, then." I tried to force a smile, but by the look on the caseworker's face, I could tell she wasn't buying it.

"Eden, this will be good for you, I promise," she said, taking the box I was holding with my mom's things. "Officer Snyder filled me in on what happened." Her gaze softened with sympathy. "No one should ever have to go through that."

I nodded, unable to say anything.

"But today marks a new chapter," she continued, her voice laced with determined optimism, "and I know it will be a good one."

"Anything is better than what I've been living with," I admitted, offering another forced smile.

Allison gave me a small, hopeful smile, though her eyes softened with concern. "You've been through so much, Eden," she said gently. "This family is ready to support you, to give you the stability and safety you deserve."

I looked away, as my jaw tightened. Stability and safety, those were words I haven't believed in for a long time. "Yeah, well," I muttered, "guess I'll see how long that lasts."

Allison didn't press me, though a flicker of disappointment did cross her face. "Let's get you settled," she said softly, her earlier enthusiasm tempered now. She held open the station door, and I reluctantly stepped out into the warm, sticky summer air.

The car ride started in silence, the hum of the engine the only sound between us. I stared out the window, watching the world blur past, a mix of small-town shops, gas stations, and stretches of empty fields. Terryville. A new place. A new life. But the shadows of my old one clung to me, refusing to let go.

"You know," Allison said, breaking the silence as we merged onto the highway, "the family I found for you, they're really excited to meet you. The Callahans. They never had kids, but always wanted them." She sighed, "The moment they heard your story they wanted to make sure you'd have everything you needed to succeed in life."

I scoffed lightly, the sound barely audible over the car's rumble. "I'm sure they're thrilled to take in some random, broken teenager."

"They volunteered," Allison countered, her voice firm but kind. "Not every family would, Eden. They want to help."

I didn't reply, her eyes still fixed on the horizon. I wanted to believe Allison's words, wanted to think this would be different, that this could be a fresh start. But the ache in my chest and the remembered echo of my father's threats were too loud to ignore.

The rest of the drive passed in a haze, and when we finally pulled up to a modest house with a wraparound porch and a yard filled with flowers, I began to finally feel hope. Allison turned to me with a reassuring smile. "We're here."