Chapter 15 - THE HOUSE
I sold the house.
Not immediately.
Not because it was cursed.
Because Kerensa would not sleep there.
The first time we returned with a therapist and police-cleared access, she stopped in the living room.
Looked at the chair.
Then the shelf.
“No red light?”
“No.”
She checked.
I showed her.
No camera.
Then upstairs.
Her room.
She stood in the doorway.
“Was camera there?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
I pointed.
The camera had been removed.
She walked inside.
Picked up two dolls.
A blanket.
Three books.
Then:
“I want apartment.”
“Okay.”
We left.
I could have forced exposure therapy.
No.
Maya said:
“Choice first.”
The apartment became home.
Then I bought a smaller house near Kerensa’s preschool.
No production room.
No perfect white kitchen.
No camera mounts.
Security cameras only outside.
I showed her where.
Front door.
Driveway.
Back gate.
“What about inside?”
“None.”
“Ever?”
“Maybe a baby monitor if we need one for something, but we’d talk.”
She nodded.
Then asked:
“Can we take pictures?”
That stopped me.
“Of course.”
“Pictures are okay?”
“Yes, if you want them.”
She smiled.
I had become so afraid of recording that I nearly made photographs feel dangerous.
We rebuilt distinctions.
Family picture.
School picture.
Video call.
Commercial shoot.
Security camera.
May you like
Different.
Not all cameras were the red light.
