Chapter 5 - The Eviction
Day thirty arrived with a heavy, relentless snowfall that blanketed the town in pristine white.
I sat in the heated leather seat of Sarah Vance’s black SUV, parked at the end of my street. The engine idled quietly. From our vantage point, we had a clear view of my house—the house Thomas and I had built, the house where I had raised a son who eventually turned into a monster.
At exactly 9:00 AM, two county sheriff's cruisers pulled into the driveway. Their red and blue lights flashed brilliantly against the morning snow.
“Are you ready for this, Clara?” Sarah asked, glancing at me from the driver’s seat.
“I’ve been ready since the day he struck me,” I replied, my voice steady.
We watched through the windshield as two deputies walked up the porch steps and pounded heavily on the front door. A minute later, the door slowly opened. Andrew stood in the doorway, looking like a ghost of the man he used to be. The house behind him was dark. Chloe had made good on her threat; she had abandoned him a week ago, taking everything of value she could fit into her car.
I rolled down my window slightly, letting the crisp winter air carry the sound of the deputies’ voices.
“Andrew Thomas, we have a court-ordered writ of possession,” the lead deputy said firmly. “You have been given thirty days' notice to vacate the premises. You need to step outside right now.”
Andrew didn't fight. He didn't yell. The fight had been completely drained out of him. He stepped out onto the porch carrying two large garbage bags filled with his clothes. That was it. That was all he had left in the world.
He trudged down the driveway through the deep snow, his head bowed. He loaded the bags into the trunk of his rusted sedan—the only vehicle the bank hadn't repossessed yet.
As he closed the trunk, he looked down the street and saw our SUV. He knew I was inside. He hesitated, taking a half-step toward my vehicle, his face twisted in a pathetic mask of regret and sorrow. He wanted to apologize. He wanted to beg for the warmth of a mother’s forgiveness.
I pressed the button on my door panel, rolling the tinted window all the way up, completely severing the connection.
I watched him get into his cold car, start the engine, and drive away. He didn't look back.
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“The property is secure, Clara,” Sarah said, checking her phone. “The deputies are leaving the keys in the lockbox. It’s over.”
“No,” I whispered, looking at the snow-covered roof of my home. “It’s just beginning.”
