There was silence between them again. A silence thick with love and so much pain. It sat between them like fog, not heavy but almost impossible to ignore.
"I talked to God about you today," her mom said softly.
Ashley wiped her eyes with her sleeve. Her hand trembled a little.
"I told Him that I was scared you were breaking and that place was swallowing you."
Ashley leaned her forehead against the wall. The cold felt good against her skin. It was a nice contrast to the heat and upset she felt inside.
"And I heard Him say, she's stronger than even she knows."
Ashley closed her eyes and more tears streamed down her cheeks. She wished she believed that.
She finally gathered her strength to speak, withholding her tears. "But Mama… it hurts so much."
"I know, baby. I know."
Her voice didn't rise nor rush. It was just quiet and full of truth.
"I miss you." Ashley muttered.
"I'm right here."
"You are not. You're at home, and I'm in this house all by myself."
"You're not alone. Don't ever think you are, Ash."
Ashley stayed quiet. Her lips trembled.
"I see you, Ash. I hear your voice. You are not forgotten. Do you understand me?"
Tears slipped down Ashley's cheeks again. They were hot and silent.
"You're the reason I'm still breathing," her mom whispered.
Ashley covered her mouth with her hand, trying not to sob out too loud. Everything in her ached, but she didn't quite know how to explain it to her mother. It surpassed physical aches. She felt mentally and emotionally drained.
"You're going to make it out of there. I know you will."
"How?" Her voice barely made it out.
"Because God didn't give you all that fire just for it to burn you. He gave it to you to light your way."
Ashley sniffled, hesitated, then added, "earlier this week… I found a letter tucked into one of the old books in the west library."
Her mother was intrigued but she said nothing. She just listened. The silence encouraged Ashley to keep going.
Ashley continued."It didn't have a full name, just the initials N C. But Mama… it sounded like someone hiding a really painful love. It was short. Just said,"
'They told me to forget you. That love wasn't worth it. But every night I close my eyes and see the life we should have had. N C.'
Ashley paused.
"It's probably nothing," she said quickly. "But I don't know why… it got to me."
Her mom's voice stayed soft, but the pause was a beat longer than before.
"That sounds… intense." Mikaela finally contributed.
"Yeah," Ashley murmured, brushing it off. "Anyway. It just stuck in my head."
Her voice trailed off into the silence again.
"Oh, okay. No problem. But promise me you'll rest." Mikaela asked.
"I will."
"Promise me you'll eat something too, Ash."
"I'll try to, ma."
"You're not weak for feeling tired, Ashley. You're human. Okay?"
"Okay." Ashley nodded. Her voice was a whisper now.
"I love you."
"I love you even more." Ashley reassured. Her voice cracked.
The line clicked. The line ended softly, like a lullaby fading into the air.
Ashley lowered the phone to her lap and let the silence breathe.
She sat still and she felt the shape of her grief. She let it sit there without pushing it away. She wasn't even in the mood to try to.
Ashley sat there for a full minute, just breathing. The weight of the day still sat on her chest, but it no longer felt like it would crush her. It was still there though.
She looked at herself in the tiny mirror above the sink.
Her eyes were red. Her cheeks were hollow and her collarbone was more visible than before.
But there was still a flicker. A little flame. She definitely wasn't done yet. She wasn't broken either. Bent? Maybe a little. But she was far from broken.
The girl in the mirror didn't look like she was strong. But she was, somehow. She had to be.
She picked up the clipboard again.This time around, her hand was steady.
The ink didn't blur this time, her tears had dried up and her eyesight was perfect.
She whispered, to no one in particular, maybe to God, maybe to herself or maybe even to her mother,
"I have to finish this for her."
Mikaela's house in South Philadelphia
Back in a dim room filled with medication bottles and a small framed picture of Ashley when she was nine, her mother sat frozen.
The silence after the call felt too loud and it was final.
Her hand still clutched the phone, but she no longer heard anything. She could only hear the echo of Ashley's voice in her head. And the ache in her chest that had been waiting to speak.
Her smile faded the moment the call ended. It didn't fade out slowly, it faded out all at once.
It felt like something dropped out of her. It felt
like the strength she had built just to sound calm for her daughter had finally run dry.
Her thumb hovered over another contact. A name she had not dared to press in a long time.
She stared at the screen. Her breathing was shallow. Her pulse was suddenly louder than her thoughts. She didn't move. She couldn't even move. Because she knew that if she did, everything would change.
She stood up quickly, like the decision had already made itself. She grabbed her scarf from the chair.
Her voice came out low and urgent. "I have to ask, I have to know if it's time"
She opened the door. The old hinges creaked. It was soft but sharp in the quiet.
She glanced once over her shoulder and the room behind her was dim. Still, it was filled with half-lit memories and unanswered prayers.
She whispered. "Lord, help me do this right."
The door clicked shut behind her. That sound stayed with her longer than it should have.
She crossed the narrow front porch in silence. The night air clung to her skin. It was cool, still, and almost sacred.
She pulled the scarf tighter around herself. Her steps were fast but unsure. Like her body knew the way, but her spirit still hesitated.
She hadn't visited that house in years, not since it happened and not since the truth started sleeping in shadows.
But tonight felt different. It felt like something had shifted. Like something was waking up.
She reached the sidewalk and paused just for a second. Just long enough to wonder if she was too late, or worse, too early.
But her feet kept going, because something deep in her gut said she had to go. Not tomorrow, not later, but right now!
Because the past doesn't stay buried forever.
It waits patiently, breathing under the floorboards. Especially in that house