“Nobody can make us leave?”
I knelt beside her.
“This is our home.”
She thought about that.
Then she ran to the window.
“Mommy! There’s a tree outside my room!”
I laughed.
For the first time in months, the sound felt natural.
Recovery did not happen all at once.
Maya still had nightmares.
She sometimes panicked when a car stopped unexpectedly.
She became anxious around unfamiliar adults.
There were days when she wanted to talk about what happened and others when she couldn’t bear to hear the names Adrian, Cameron, or Vanessa.
Her therapist helped her learn that she could say no, ask questions, and tell trusted adults whenever something frightened her.
I learned not to pressure her for memories.
I learned that safety could not be restored simply by promising that bad things would never happen again.
It had to be demonstrated.
Every day.
Through consistency.
Honesty.
Respect.
And listening.
