The next day, something shifted.
Griggs sent us into the yard to scrub laundry by the pump. The water was icy, the soap harsh, but the sun broke through the clouds for the first time in weeks. The boy inside me stared at the sky, wide-eyed, and whispered something I hadn't expected.
"It's… beautiful."
I seized the moment.
"Yes. And there's more out there. More than this place. More than him."
The boy blinked, confused.
"But I'll never see it."
"Yes, you will." I gripped the wooden bucket with trembling hands. "You'll see it if you stay. If you fight. If you dream of something beyond these walls."
For the first time, his despair loosened. Just a little. Just enough for light to slip in.