What Remains
Lila no longer attends Brookhaven.
She attends a smaller school now — one without iron gates or engraved mottos. A place where curiosity is not mistaken for defiance.
She sleeps with the hallway light off again.
Sometimes, when I pass the East Wing in memory, I still hear the sound that began all of it.
But now I also remember something else.
The moment I opened the door.
The moment silence broke.
Systems of protection do not fail all at once.
They fail quietly.
Until someone refuses to remain quiet with them.
