Chapter 8 - Retrieving Our Belongings From My Mother’s Locked House
With police escort and Marcus's legal documents in hand, Amy and I drove across town to Teresa's suburban home. We needed to retrieve Amy's personal family heirlooms, baby clothes, and important tax documents.
Aunt Betsy was standing on the front porch with her arms crossed, glaring daggers as we stepped out of the car. "You have no right to be here!" Betsy shrieked, marching down the driveway.
"Step aside, Mrs. Miller, or I'll have you arrested for obstruction of justice," the accompanying police officer warned sharply. Betsy froze, her face turning pale as she recognized the unyielding authority in the officer's voice.
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We unlocked the front door and stepped inside my childhood home for the first time in years. The air smelled of stale perfume and cheap tobacco, a stark reminder of the toxic environment I had foolishly trusted.
Amy packed our belongings quickly while I secured the remaining legal papers from my late father's filing cabinet. We left before Betsy could recover enough composure to hurl any more insults our way.
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