I don't know why they never said anything about me. I think that at the end of the day they were either afraid or ashamed. Afraid of what I'd do or say. Ashamed at the fact that I did their dirty work and they couldn't take responsibility. We never coordinated a response, I never had to say anything to them, they all came to the same conclusion independent of each other: the young ones get away clean. Maybe they thought I'd grow up to atone, make amends, fling that light into the future. Prove what we believed in was true.

The truth is, if it came down to me or them, I'd pick myself any time. Not to say I don't appreciate their sacrifice. It just wasn't needed.

They moved me out of state, thought it best if I go somewhere else. The dice landed on Portland. The Millers were good folks: bohemian, stable jobs, never had a daughter before me. They tried their best. I learned what people expected of little girls, and I conformed. It was helpful. Instructive.

Experience is a great educator. What Forest Glen taught me was that if you make a mistake, you learn from it. Get caught? Have a plan. Need to do it? Don't need permission if you don't get caught. If you give them what they expect, they don't look deeper. There was plenty to learn, before and after college, all the way up until I moved back to Brindlewood Bay. And I was an eager student.

https://thecoffin.club