Chapter 18
I was forty-two years old when I received an unexpected visitor at the foundation.
Her name was Lisa.
She was in her early thirties.
Nervous.
Hesitant.
She sat down across from me.
"I don't know if you remember me," she said. "I'm Megan's cousin. Your aunt Linda's daughter."
I did remember her.
We had played together as children.
Before my parents had cut off contact with Linda because she had tried to warn them about Megan.
"I remember you," I said. "How are you, Lisa?"
She took a deep breath.
"I need to tell you something. Something about Megan. Something I've been carrying around for a long time."
"What is it?"
"When we were teenagers, Megan told me something. She was bragging about it. She said that when you were seven years old, she pushed you down the stairs. And then she told your parents that you had tripped. Do you remember that?"
I froze.
I did remember.
I had fallen down the stairs.
Broken my arm.
My parents had told me I was clumsy.
That I needed to be more careful.
I had always believed it was an accident.
"Megan pushed you," Lisa said. "She told me she did it because you had gotten a new bike for your birthday and she was jealous. She said she was glad you broke your arm. She said it served you right for being the favorite."
I felt a cold chill run down my spine.
Another piece of the puzzle.
Another memory that turned out to be a lie.
"Why are you telling me this now?" I asked.
"Because I saw your book. And I saw the trial. And I felt so guilty. I knew what she was. Even back then. But I was scared of her. And I was scared of your parents. I should have said something. Maybe if I had, none of this would have happened."
She started crying.
"I'm so sorry, Emily. I'm so sorry I didn't speak up."
I reached across the table and touched her hand.
"It's not your fault, Lisa. Megan was scary. My parents were scary. You were just a kid. You did the best you could."
She looked at me.
"Thank you. That means more than you know."
She left a short time later.
I sat in my office for a long time after she was gone.
Thinking about that seven-year-old girl.
Falling down the stairs.
Breaking her arm.
Believing she was clumsy.
Believing it was her fault.
All because her little sister was jealous of a bike.
All because her parents would rather believe a lie than face the truth about their favorite daughter.
I thought about all the other incidents.
The times my homework had mysteriously disappeared.
The times my things had been broken.
The times I had gotten in trouble for things I hadn't done.
How many of them had been Megan?
How many of them had my parents known about?
How many lies had I been told?
But then I stopped.
I didn't need to count them all.
I already knew the truth.
Megan had been trying to destroy me since we were children.
And my parents had let her.
They had enabled her.
They had encouraged her.
And they had gaslighted me into believing I was the problem.
But I wasn't the problem.
They were.
And they were gone.
I stood up and walked to the window.
I watched children playing in the park across the street.
I thought about Hope and Gabriel.
They would never know what it was like to be afraid in their own home.
They would never know what it was like to be betrayed by the people who were supposed to love them most.
They would never have to question their own reality because someone they loved was lying to them.
And that was my greatest victory.
I had broken the cycle.
The Collins family's legacy of cruelty and lies ended with me.
My children would know only love.
Only safety.
May you like
Only truth.
And that was more than enough.
