The refusal to accept my letters.
The constant need to keep me away.
For four years, I thought they hated me.
The truth was worse.
They needed me gone.
The front door remained locked.
But inside, shouting had begun.
Real shouting.
My mother and father were screaming at each other.
Accusing.
Blaming.
Panicking.
The crowd heard every word.
“You said she would never come back!”
That was my mother.
Then my father.
