25.
She is gone. You sense that immediately when you come in from work, from shopping downtown. You put the French loaf and bottle of wine you’ve purchased on the kitchen counter. You stop and listen. There is no sound. But there is never any sound. Except the TV. And that is off. Gibson is lying on the floor in front of her room when you go up the stairs. He growls at you.
You did nothing to her. You saved her, really. Took her away from the world outside. There is no reason she should want to turn you in. You did not violate her. You did not beat her, of course. You did not even speak to her meanly when she was withdrawing from the drugs. You played music for her and gave her food and water.
But will anyone believe this?
You left the door open, never locked. You told her she could go
