That was all she could manage.
Therapy began two weeks later.
Dr. Nina Patel’s office had a basket of stress balls shaped like planets and a shelf of board games nobody was required to play. She never pushed. She let silence exist. The first full session, Lily talked mostly about the crate because it was easier to describe metal and hunger than betrayal.
“I kept thinking she’d stop,” Lily said.
Dr. Patel nodded. “Because you were a child in a house with an adult. Your brain was doing what children’s brains are supposed to do—assuming adults won’t go that far.”
Lily twisted a rubber band around her fingers. “Now I don’t think that anymore.”
“That makes sense,” Dr. Patel said. “But it doesn’t mean the whole world is Carol.”
No, Lily thought. But it had one Carol, and that was enough to change the map.
By August, the criminal case moved forward.
The prosecutor, Assistant District Attorney Marcus Bell, met with Lily and Dana and Evan in a conference room with stale coffee and an American flag in the corner. He explained that because of the physical evidence, the medical reports, and Carol’s text messages, the state had a strong case. He said there might still be a plea deal offered depending on how Carol’s attorney assessed the evidence. He said Carol was claiming Lily’s account had been exaggerated and that the crate door was never truly secured “for any significant length of time.”
Lily almost laughed when she heard that.
Three days apparently counted as “not significant” in Carol’s universe.
Bell asked gently whether Lily would be willing to testify if needed.
Dana cut in immediately. “Only if absolutely necessary.”
Bell nodded. “We’ll avoid it if we can. But I want everyone prepared.”
Evan looked like he might be sick.
Outside the courthouse after that meeting, he said, “You don’t owe anybody testimony. Not even me.”
Lily studied him.
