Chapter 6 - The Shadow in the Mirror
Aunt Sarah’s house always smelled of freshly baked cinnamon rolls and eucalyptus, a stark contrast to the stagnant bleach of our old farmhouse. Yet, even in this safe haven, my reflection in the bathroom mirror still sent a cold shiver down my spine. I lifted the hem of my oversized t-shirt, staring at the faint white scar beneath my left arm where the metal had dug in.
A sharp knock on the door startled me. "Penny? Honey, you've been in there for twenty minutes," Dad's voice drifted through the wood, laced with gentle concern. "Your social worker, Brenda, is downstairs. She brought some mail that arrived at the old address."
I quickly pulled my shirt down and unlocked the door. Dad stood there, wearing a soft gray sweater instead of his usual frayed work shirt. He looked healthier, the heavy bags under his eyes finally receding.
Downstairs in the sunlit living room, Brenda Vance was reviewing a thick manila folder. When she saw me, her professional expression melted into a warm smile. "Good morning, Penny. How are the new school preparations going?"
"Good," I answered quietly, sitting on the edge of the sofa.
"Well, I have something that might interest you," Brenda said, sliding a sealed envelope across the coffee table. "The local sheriff's department finished combing through your grandmother's estate property. They found a safety deposit box under a fake name at the county bank. This was inside."
Dad frowned, leaning forward to inspect the envelope, which bore a faded bank stamp from twelve years ago. "Open it," he urged softly.
May you like
I slid my finger under the flap and pulled out a single sheet of heavy parchment. It was a medical certificate—not mine, but my mother's. The bold print diagnosed her with severe postpartum depression, but a handwritten note scrawled across the margin in Grandma's aggressive, spidery handwriting changed everything: “She refuses to give up the child. I have arranged for her relocation. No one will ever believe a hysterical girl.”
Dad gripped the edge of the table so hard his knuckles turned stark white, a dangerous fire igniting in his eyes.
