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Breakfast was at 8 a.m. sharp. Not 8:05. Not when you felt like it. Miss Dee’s rules were written in bold marker across the kitchen wall: Respect. Accountability. No Phones at the Table. Speak Truth or Stay Silent. Janiah came down in a borrowed tee and sweatpants, hair pulled back into a messy bun. The kitchen smelled like coffee and cinnamon. Three other girls sat around the table. No one smiled. “This is Janiah,” Miss Dee said, setting a plate in front of her. “She’ll be here with us for a while. Be kind. Or be quiet.” The girl across from her, a tall, lean one with skin like polished copper and eyes that didn’t blink much, nodded once. “I’m Reyna.” Next to her was a round-faced girl in glasses. “Imani.” The third barely looked up. “Tiff.” Janiah gave a soft “Hey” and focused on her eggs. The silence wasn’t mean—it just felt like a test. Like they were waiting to see if she’d stick around long enough to bother remembering her name. After breakfast came chores. Then “healing hour”—a journal session in the common room with Miss Dee and the others. Janiah sat with her notebook untouched, fingers tight around the pen. Miss Dee said softly, “You don’t have to write what you’re not ready to see.” Still, that night, when the house was quiet and she lay under the hum of the ceiling fan, she opened to the first page. “I thought leaving was the hard part. But staying gone might be harder.” She stared at the sentence for a long time. Then wrote: “I don’t know who I am outside of him. But I want to find out.” She closed the journal, heart thudding but light. Down the hall, someone was crying quietly into a pillow. Somewhere upstairs, a gospel song played low. Janiah lay back and let the quiet take her. Tomorrow would come with more questions. But tonight, she had told the truth. And that was a start.

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First Stop, Fresh Start

House Rules 

Soft Ground

Visitation Day

Girls Like Us

No Apologies

Second Chances Ain't Pretty

Work in Progress

When the Past Calls

A Girl Named Mya

The Circle Breaker

Soft Landings

Letters to Myself

Final Epilogue: The Other Side

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Too Grown to Go Back

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Too Grown to Go Back

ProudMommy0321

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Ceria Mcgrone

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