Chapter 9 - THE FIRST SMILE
It was a Saturday afternoon in late spring when I finally brought Milo and Adelina back to Elmwood Avenue—not to live, but to pack up the last of their clothes from their old bedrooms upstairs, and to show them what we had done downstairs.
Milo walked in carefully on crutches, his green fiberglass cast proudly signed by every nurse in the pediatric ward, while Adelina held tightly to my hand, her eyes wide and curious.
"Do you remember this house, kids?" I asked softly as we stood in the entryway.
Milo nodded slowly, his small jaw tightening. "We lived here with her."
"Well, she’s never coming back," I assured them, kneeling down to their eye level. "And I want to show you something downstairs. You don't have to go if you don't want to, but I think you'll like it."
Milo exchanged a quick glance with his little sister, then looked back at me with cautious bravery. "Okay, Uncle Mark. We'll go."
We walked down the hallway, opened the interior cellar door, and flicked on the wall switch. Instead of pitch-black darkness and the smell of rotting food, a warm, golden glow spilled up the wooden stairs, accompanied by the cheerful, soft melody of a wind chime hanging near the window.
Milo stopped at the top of the stairs, his jaw dropping open in sheer disbelief.
The dark, terrifying dungeon was gone. In its place was a bright, cozy playroom filled with plush beanbag chairs, colorful walls, and a towering stack of storybooks.
Adelina let out a squeal of pure delight, slipping her hand out of mine and clattering down the wooden steps as fast as her little legs could carry her, diving straight into a pile of stuffed animals in the corner.
Milo slowly hopped down the stairs on his crutches, his eyes scanning the transformed room. He reached out and ran his fingers along the fresh drywall where the tally marks had once been covered by a bright, cheerful mural of a forest filled with friendly animals.
He turned around, looking up at me with tears swimming in his big brown eyes—not tears of fear or pain, but of overwhelming relief.
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"The dark room is gone, Milo," I whispered, pulling him into a gentle embrace, careful of his cast.
"Yeah," Milo sniffled, burying his face against my shoulder. "It's a good room now."
