Lily’s little voice filled the quiet courtroom. She talked about the scuffed pink castle nightlight. She explained how Mark would turn it off, and how the room would go completely dark, and how she would count the seconds until he left.
Mark sat at the defense table. For the first time, he didn’t look calm. He looked down at his hands, his face completely pale.
The jury took less than three hours to find him guilty on all charges. The judge, a stern woman with gray hair, didn’t show him any mercy. She sentenced him to twenty-five years in the state penitentiary.
It has been two years since that day in the school hallway.
We don’t live in Sandusky anymore. We moved to a small town further inland, far away from the lake wind and the memories of that apartment.
I still work in retail, but I found a daytime job at a local hardware store. The pay isn’t great, but I am home every single night to tuck Lily into bed.
We threw the pink castle nightlight into a dumpster behind a gas station on our way out of town. Lily picked out a new nightlight. It is a bright blue star that stays on all night, casting a soft, steady glow over her room.
She still sleeps with her corduroy teddy bear, but we got him a new blue button eye to replace the missing one.
Yesterday, Lily came home from her second-grade class with a drawing she had made in art.
It was a picture of a house with a huge yellow sun and a big green yard. There were two figures holding hands.
“Who is that?” I asked, pointing to the drawing.
“That’s you and me, Mom,” she said, smiling up at me. “We’re safe now.”
I held her tight, smelling the faint scent of baby shampoo in her hair. My hands weren’t shaking anymore. We still have a long way to go, and the medical bills are still piled on my kitchen table, but we are moving forward. That is all that matters.
✓
End of story — Part 5 of 5
