Chapter 8 - The Aftermath
One year later.
The Oakridge Elementary annual fall festival was in full swing.
The playground was filled with the sounds of children laughing, music playing from outdoor speakers, and parents chatting around food trucks.
I stood near the main entrance wearing a navy blazer and my administrator badge, holding a clipboard, checking in vendors and managing the volunteer schedules.
“Vice Principal Parker!” a small voice called out.
I looked down. It was a second-grader named Mia, holding a paper plate with a large piece of chocolate cake.
“Do you want some cake, Miss Parker?” she asked sweetly, offering the plate up to me.
For a fraction of a second, my pulse flicked. But then I looked at Mia’s bright, innocent smile, and the phantom fear vanished completely.
“I’m good, Mia,” I smiled, kneeling down to her level. “But thank you! Make sure you get some napkins before you eat that near your dress!”
Mia giggled and ran off toward the picnic tables.
I stood up and saw Dr. Aris Thorne walking across the grass toward me, holding a bottle of water. He had become a close friend and a board member for the district’s allergy safety initiative, which I had established six months prior.
“How’s the event going, Lena?” Aris asked, handing me the water.
“Smooth,” I said. “No missing boutonnieres. No dietary mix-ups. No drama.”
“Just the way you like it,” he smiled, glancing at the thin, barely noticeable white scar on my cheek. “How’s the face feeling?”
“Doesn't hurt at all,” I said truthfully. “The dermatologist said the final laser treatment worked wonders.”
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
It was an official notification from the Texas Department of Criminal Justice.
Haley’s first parole hearing was scheduled for the following month. Under the terms of my victim impact statement, I had the right to submit a letter to the board.
I opened my notes app on my phone and drafted three simple lines:
May you like
I do not hold hatred for Haley Parker. However, forgiveness does not equal access. I request that all conditions of her release include a permanent, non-expiring order of protection prohibiting her from coming within one thousand yards of my home, my workplace, or my life.
I hit send.
