“They’re not strangers. They’re family now.”
“They moved my clothes into trash bags.”
“I told them that room was being cleared.”
“You wore my clothes. Used my things. Lied to your husband’s parents. Lied to our family. Lied to me.”
Melissa’s eyes flashed. “I did what Mom should have done years ago. I made things fair.”
Sirens sounded in the distance.
My mother grabbed my wrist. Her fingers were cold and tight. “Amanda, please. Think about this. Once the police come, you can’t undo it.”
I looked down at her hand until she let go.
“No,” I said. “You should have thought about that before you gave away my house.”
The patrol cars arrived two minutes later.
Two officers stepped out, one woman and one man. The woman introduced herself as Officer Grant. She had a firm voice, tired eyes, and the posture of someone who had walked into domestic madness many times and expected it to get worse before it got better.
“Who called?” she asked.
“I did.” I raised my hand. “Amanda Blake. This is my property.”
Melissa immediately talked over me.
“This is a misunderstanding,” she said, hurrying down the steps. “My sister is unstable. She travels a lot for work, she came home overwhelmed, and now she’s throwing our family’s belongings into the yard.”
Officer Grant looked at the suitcases, then at me. “Do you have identification and proof of residence?”
“Yes.”
