After every battle, some wounds remain but so does the strength to keep standing.

——

The house no longer felt like a prison.

Not because the walls had changed, but because the ghosts inside had finally loosened their grip. The weight of silence was no longer suffocating; it was a fragile kind of peace settling into the cracks.

No more footsteps echoing down the hall like threats.

No more helicopters slicing through the night sky with their ominous hum.

No more cold dread clawing at the windows, trying to pry open every lock in my soul.

Now, the morning light spilled gently through half-drawn curtains, casting soft, golden shadows on...