"When?"
"It could happen tomorrow. Or next week. Or while you're sitting across from him in that therapy room." Catherine's voice was urgent now. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I failed to protect you once. I saw what my son was doing to you, and I looked away. I made excuses. I chose my comfort over your safety. I won't make that mistake again."
Silence stretched between us.
"If you go back to see him," Catherine continued, "you need to be prepared. The Alexander you saw today—confused, vulnerable, genuinely horrified by evidence of what he did—that might not be the Alexander you see tomorrow. When that memory surfaces, when his brain starts putting those puzzle pieces together, I don't know which version of my son will be left standing."
I sat in the darkness of my room, on
