Part 6: The Horizon of Truth
That evening, I stood on the open-air observation deck of my building, watching the distant lights of the suburbs twinkle against the dark horizon.
Somewhere out there, behind high concrete walls and heavy iron bars, Dominic and his parents were sitting in a cold, clinical space, finally learning the true meaning of structure. They had thought that power meant violence, that silence meant surrender, and that wealth could overwrite cruelty.
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But they had been wrong.
I adjusted my coat, took a deep breath of the crisp evening air, and turned my back on the shadow of their memory. The kitchen was clean, the cameras were gone, and the only song that mattered was the quiet, beautiful sound of my own life beginning again under a sky full of stars.
