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The Freedom of Forgiveness

he’s turned himself in and we have the gun, you and the rest of your family are free to move back into the house.” I said, “Thank you, sir,” and I hung up the phone. As I walked out of the hotel room, it was as if I was in the twilight zone. I knew Jeff had done it, but now, having actually gotten the confirmation, a million questions seemed to race through my mind. Why did I know he had done it? What did they argue about that made him so angry that he would do this? And why hadn’t my mother locked her bedroom door before laying down to sleep, knowing how Jeff would often come in and out, stealing things and wreaking havoc. As I reached the counter to check out of the hotel, the receptionist’s voice snapped me out of my trance. “How was your stay, sir?”

I blinked. If only she knew why I was there. “It was good.”

Before I reached my car in the hotel parking lot, I used a phone booth and I called my stepfather at