As presented.
It was a careful phrase.
A professional phrase.
A phrase with edges.
Ethan came back with the papers.
Mallory signed a short statement while sitting at the coffee table, the same table where her discharge instructions had been stacked for weeks.
Her handwriting looked shaky.
She hated that.
Then she looked at the complaint again.
Her father’s name was on the first line.
For most of her life, seeing his name had meant obligation.
Tonight, it meant evidence.
After the officers left, Mallory sat in the quiet living room and stared at the door.
Ethan locked it.
Then he turned the deadbolt again, just to be sure.
Mallory noticed the small sound more than she should have.
Click.
A boundary.
Her father called four more times that night.
Her mother called twice.
Her sister sent one text.
You went too far.
Mallory looked at it and felt something inside her settle.
