Chapter 17 - HOPE’S FIRST STEPS
Hope took her first steps at fourteen months.
Khloe sat on the living room rug.
Harrison stood near the coffee table holding a stuffed bear.
Hope released the sofa.
She took one uncertain step.
Then another.
Khloe stopped breathing.
The child wobbled toward her.
Khloe opened both arms.
Hope fell against her chest.
Everyone began crying.
Harrison tried to deny it.
Amelia handed him a tissue.
“You are terrifying.”
“I have allergies.”
“To milestones?”
“To dust.”
Hope grew into a curious child with dark eyes and a stubborn expression.
She loved crayons.
Dogs.
And opening drawers she had been told not to touch.
Khloe attended physical therapy until she could walk without a cane most days.
Pain remained in cold weather.
Certain sounds brought the staircase back.
A shoe slipping on marble.
A fire alarm.
A camera shutter.
Healing did not erase memory.
It taught her that memory did not control every room.
Vanessa sent one letter from prison when Hope turned two.
I do not expect forgiveness.
I want you to know I remember her blood every night.
Khloe placed the letter inside a legal archive.
She did not answer.
Richard wrote dozens of letters.
Most blamed Harrison.
Some blamed Vanessa.
A few apologized.
Khloe read them through her attorney.
None were given to Hope.
May you like
Not yet.
Access to a child was not guaranteed by remorse that appeared after sentencing.
