He rolled his eyes and joked, “Mom, you’re legally required to say that.”
When I arrived, the school looked exactly the same. That, in a way, made everything worse.
Mrs. Dilmore was waiting near the office, pale and nervous. She handed me a plain white envelope with trembling hands.
“I found it at the bottom of my drawer,” he said.
I held it carefully. On the obverse, in Owen’s handwriting, were two words:
For mom.
My knees almost gave out.
He led me into a quiet room. A table. Two chairs. A window overlooking the countryside, where Owen would run when he thought he couldn’t see him.
I slowly opened the envelope. Inside was a folded sheet of notebook paper.
As soon as I saw his handwriting, the pain hit me so hard that I had to put my hand on my chest.
“Mom, I knew this letter would reach you if anything happened to me. You need to know the truth… about Dad…”
I felt the room collapse on me.
Owen told me not to confront Charlie. He told me to follow him. See something with my own eyes. Then he checked under a loose tile, under the table in his room.
No explanation.
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