The night my father locked me out, the sky didn’t rage—it watched. Rain stitched County Road 9 into a slick, black ribbon while the porch light snapped off behind me like a verdict. I pounded until my knuckles split, shouting over the storm that the pills weren’t mine, that the pharmacist was wrong, that I hadn’t swallowed anything but pride. Inside, the deadbolt answered with silence, and my father’s shadow moved away from the peephole. By the time the cold reached my bones, I’d memorized every crack in the driveway, every lie in his eyes, and the exact moment my body stopped belonging to me and started belong… Continues…
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