Chapter 2

The police station was sterile and smelled of old coffee and disinfectant. Under the harsh fluorescent lights, everyone looked tired and angry. Detective Jones sat behind a metal desk, looking from Sarah to Ashley's mother, a woman who had introduced herself as "Karen Green."

"Okay, let's try this again, from the beginning," Jones said, his voice heavy with the weariness of a man who had seen too many domestic disputes. "Ma'am," he nodded at Karen, "you're saying she assaulted you and your son."

"Assaulted?" Karen screeched, her voice echoing in the small office. "She's a psycho! She broke into the apartment and attacked my boy for no reason! I want her arrested! And I want damages for my son's emotional trauma!"

Jones sighed and turned to Sarah. "And your side of the story?"

"That apartment is leased in my name, for my daughter," Sarah stated calmly, her voice a stark contrast to Karen's shrieking. "These people were trespassing. They trashed the place. And her son," Sarah's eyes narrowed as she looked at the young man, who was now trying to look like a victim, "harassed my daughter. He went into her bedroom while she was sleeping. That's why I was there. To get them out."

"We weren't trespassing!" Karen shouted. "Ashley is Emily's best friend! Emily invited her to stay! We're family!"

"A best friend doesn't let her whole family move in and terrorize the person who's helping her," Sarah shot back, her composure starting to crack.

Detective Jones held up a hand. "Okay, okay. This is a civil matter, mostly. A landlord-tenant issue. But the assault claim complicates things."

"I want her locked up!" Karen insisted. "And we're not leaving that apartment. We have rights! You can't just throw us out on the street!"

Sarah decided to change her approach. She let a calculated look of weariness cross her face. She slouched slightly in her chair, a single mom pushed to her limit. "Detective," she said, her voice softer now, "I'm not a violent person. I'm a mother. I found out my daughter was being threatened in her own home, a home I worked two jobs to provide for her. I went there to protect her. Maybe I was... overzealous. But what would you do if it was your kid?"

Jones's expression didn't change, but he looked at her for a long moment. He had seen real psychos, and he had seen desperate parents. Sarah felt more like the latter.

Karen, however, saw this as a sign of weakness. "See? She's admitting it! She's weak! Probably a drunk, too. Look at her. A terrible mother, that's what she is. Her daughter is probably just as messed up."

The insults kept coming, a stream of venom aimed at Sarah and Emily. Sarah didn't engage. She just sat there, letting Karen dig her own grave.

Finally, Sarah looked at Jones. "I'm not interested in a screaming match. I want to press charges against her son, Dylan, for harassment. And I want them escorted out of my apartment immediately. I will also be seeking restitution for the damages to the property."

"Damages?" Karen scoffed. "We didn't damage anything!"

"And we're not paying you a dime!" Dylan added, crossing his arms with a sneer. "You're the one who assaulted me."

"Fine," Jones said, standing up. "We'll all take a ride back to the apartment and see what we're talking about."

The ride back was tense and silent. When they arrived, Sarah unlocked the door and stepped aside, letting Detective Jones enter first. The smell was worse now. He walked through the small space, his eyes taking in every detail: the cigarette burn on the new carpet where Sarah had knocked it from Dylan's mouth, the sticky rings on the end tables, the greasy film on the kitchen counters, the pile of garbage oozing onto the floor.

He opened Emily's bedroom door. The bed was unmade, but worse was the faint, grimy outline of a body on the guest pillows that had been thrown on the floor.

He turned to Karen and Dylan. "You call this not damaging anything?"

While the police were escorting the Greens out, who were grabbing their few belongings and cursing the whole time, Sarah called Emily.

"It's done, honey. They're gone."

Emily arrived a few minutes later, looking small and fragile. She stepped into the apartment and her face fell. She walked through the rooms, her hand trailing over a scratch on the wall, her eyes welling up as she saw the state of her kitchen. She stopped in the living room and looked at Sarah, tears streaming down her face.

"I don't want to live here anymore, Mom," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I can't. Every time I close my eyes, I'll see his face."

Sarah pulled her daughter into a fierce hug. In that moment, her mission became crystal clear. It wasn't enough to get them out. It wasn't enough to get them to pay for a new carpet. She was going to make them understand that you don't mess with Sarah Miller's daughter. You don't break Emily's spirit and just walk away. This was war.