Chương 8
“I wasn’t always in there.”
Margaret hated hearing her defend the factual boundaries of what had been done to her.
But her therapist later explained that accuracy gave Anna ownership.
If others exaggerated her suffering, even to condemn Victor, they were still taking control of her story.
So Margaret learned to stop saying always.
She learned to stop saying monster.
She learned, with difficulty, to let Anna describe what happened using Anna’s own language.
Victor had not kidnapped her as a child.
He had found a vulnerable adult whose identity could make him rich.
Then he had decided that protecting his chance at money justified controlling her.
When Anna resisted, his justifications expanded.
That was the part Harris found most disturbing.
Victor had written notes.
Pages of them.
Anna is not rational about her own interests.
She will ruin everything if allowed to leave.
Once the Hales understand what I have done for them, they will compensate me.
She needs structure.
She lies when afraid.
I am the only person who knows the whole situation.
The notes did not sound like a villain.
They sounded like a man explaining himself to himself.
That frightened Margaret more.
Victor rejected a plea deal.
His attorney argued that Anna had stayed voluntarily for long periods and that her mental health history complicated her account.
The defense also challenged the meaning of the outside latch.
It had agricultural uses.
The coop was not a prison.
No forensic evidence proved exactly how often Anna had been locked inside.
The case was not simple.
Margaret wanted it to be.
“Why isn’t this enough?” she demanded after one court hearing.
Daniel was driving.
Rain moved across the windshield.
“Because court isn’t a movie.”
“I know what court is.”
“Do you?”
She turned toward him.
He regretted the words immediately.
Margaret looked out the window.
Daniel sighed.
“I’m sorry.”
“No, finish.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Finish.”
He gripped the wheel.
“You keep acting like if everybody understands how bad it was, the process should become easy.”
“It should.”
“But it doesn’t.”
“He locked her in a coop.”
“Yes.”
“He starved her.”
“Sometimes.”
Margaret looked at him.
He hated saying it.
“The medical records show chronic malnutrition. They can’t prove every period of food restriction was Victor.”
“You sound like his lawyer.”
“No. I sound like someone who has been meeting with the prosecutor.”
Margaret turned away.
They drove several miles in silence.
Finally Daniel said, “Mom.”
She did not answer.
“You know I want him convicted.”
Nothing.
“But wanting the right outcome doesn’t mean every fact becomes whatever helps us.”
Margaret’s eyes filled.
“I spent twenty-three years being told facts.”
Daniel’s expression softened.
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
That hurt him.
She saw it.
Still, she continued.
“You were three.”
“I grew up in that house too.”
“You grew up.”
The words came out crueler than she intended.
Daniel went quiet.
Margaret heard them hanging between them.
You grew up.
Anna didn’t.
Not with them.
Daniel stared ahead.
He said, “Right.”
Margaret wanted to take it back.
Pride stopped her for almost thirty seconds.
Then shame won.
“That was horrible.”
Daniel gave a small shrug.
“No, it was.”
The wipers moved.
“I’m sorry.”
He nodded.
She looked at his profile and saw Thomas in the shape of his nose.
“I forget you lost her too.”
Daniel laughed once.
“Everybody did.”
There was no self-pity in it.
That made it worse.
At the next red light, Margaret put her hand over his.
He let it stay there until the light changed.
Anna’s recovery was not a return.
That was the lesson none of them understood at first.
There was no old Anna waiting underneath the damage.
There was a woman who liked instant coffee too strong, hated bananas unless they were nearly green, slept with a chair under the bedroom doorknob even after locks were changed, watched cooking shows without cooking anything, collected supermarket loyalty cards, and became furious when people moved her belongings.
She disliked expensive restaurants.
She loved laundromats.
The first time Margaret asked why, Anna said, “Nobody cares how long you sit there.”
She had a habit of reading expiration dates on everything.
She refused automatic payments.
She kept cash in three places in the apartment.
She liked thunderstorms.
She hated ceiling fans.
She could be funny.
She could also be cruel.
During an argument about therapy, Anna told Margaret, “You like helping me because it lets you pretend you didn’t fail.”
Margaret left the apartment without speaking.
In the elevator, she began crying so hard she had to press the emergency stop between floors.
Five minutes later, Anna texted:
that was mean
Margaret stared at the screen.
Then another message came.
not saying it was false
Margaret laughed through tears.
She typed:
Fair.
Anna replied:
you say fair when you’re furious
Margaret wrote:
Also fair.
Their relationship grew in those tiny collisions.
Not through dramatic forgiveness.
Not through one conversation.
Sometimes Anna wanted Margaret near her.
Sometimes she resented every minute Margaret had lived without her.
Sometimes Margaret wanted gratitude and hated herself for wanting it.
Sometimes Daniel grew tired of being the reasonable one.
Once, after Anna accused him of having had “the replacement childhood,” Daniel stood up from her kitchen table.
“You think my childhood was normal?”
Anna stared at him.
“I didn’t say normal.”
“You keep acting like I got the family you were supposed to have.”
“You did.”
“No. I got Mom checking my bedroom at two in the morning until I was fifteen. I got Dad following me to school because he thought somebody would take me too. I got fingerprint kits every year for Christmas from a private security company.”
Anna’s face changed.
Daniel was breathing hard.
May you like
“I got recognized in grocery stores as the brother of the missing girl. Teachers treated me like I might break. Dad drank. Mom didn’t sleep. Every birthday you weren’t there, nobody knew whether we were allowed to be happy.”
Margaret stood in the doorway, stunned.
