VALORIA WILDEROSE
I don't go back in. Not yet.
Call it fear, maybe, or trauma, but I get the feeling that there's another prank waiting inside for me—a trap I might fall into the moment I step into the building.
The tall, brilliant mansion looks like nothing more than a torture house, and I want to avoid setting foot in it as much as I can.
Instead, I walk down a familiar path I'd taken many times as a child—to cry or cool my head after falling out with my family, which happened far too often.
The path leads to the old tree I used to climb and hide in so they wouldn't find me, even if they searched.
Finding that tall, massive wall of wood again and climbing into its branches, which conceal me from sight, fills me with instant relief and comfort.
I hug the thick trunk, nestling into it just like I used to on those days.
Back then, I'd let myself drown in thoughts of what my life would be like outside.
