Home Entertainment Game Technology Advertisement Part 2: For eight years, my parents made me leave the house every time my brother brought his fiance over; Mom said, “She comes from a good family, don’t embarrass us”; Dad added, “Just disappear for the weekend”; I did; then one weekend, I never came back; it took them four years to find out where I went.

It was a letter from an attorney named Mara Whitfield.

The letter referenced my grandmother's estate and a disputed death record.

Avery said:

“I called her before I drove here.”

“You called a lawyer about me?”

“I didn't give her your location.”

“Why not?”

“Because I didn't know whether you wanted your family to know where you were.”

That stopped me.

One person had finally understood.

My parents had spent years deciding what I was allowed to know.

Avery had information that could alter my entire life and, somehow, she'd still remembered that my location belonged to me.

I lowered myself onto a stack of fertilizer bags.

“Start from the beginning.”

Avery sat opposite me.

Four years earlier, after I disappeared for good, my family told her I had been gone “a long time” emotionally before I finally died.

That was how they explained inconsistencies.

If Avery remembered dates not making sense, Mitch said grief had damaged his memory.