The Daughter in the Donation Chest
337 Views · Ongoing · Joy Brown
“Mr. Hale, step away from the chest.”
The officer’s hand stayed on the latch beneath my brother’s portrait.
My mother clutched the donation envelopes to her chest. “Lena is doing this for attention.”
Dad gave the room his lawyer smile. “My daughter hides when she wants sympathy.”
The volunteer pointed at the broken white ribbon. “Then why is there blood on it?”
The room went quiet.
I stood beside them, dead and barefoot, watching Dad’s face change.
Because for once, someone was about to open the place where they had left me.
The officer’s hand stayed on the latch beneath my brother’s portrait.
My mother clutched the donation envelopes to her chest. “Lena is doing this for attention.”
Dad gave the room his lawyer smile. “My daughter hides when she wants sympathy.”
The volunteer pointed at the broken white ribbon. “Then why is there blood on it?”
The room went quiet.
I stood beside them, dead and barefoot, watching Dad’s face change.
Because for once, someone was about to open the place where they had left me.
