The folder knows

Today I started a folder. It has a label. It is for proof. Not for taxes. Not for recipes. For proof that I am not crazy.

Deon was on speaker while I sorted it. He said write it all down and do not talk to them.

My kitchen table looked like a desk on tv. Screenshots. Call logs. A saved voice note I have played four times. Every time I hear her voice I feel a little sick and a little sure.

Then Ines came by. She laid out the looks and I almost cried. Not the sad kind. The kind where someone finally sees the same thing you see.

She said they are going to hate this. I said that is the point.

Here is what I cannot say out loud. I am scared I am making it all up. That I am the girl who cried wolf.

But I will not. I know what I heard.

The folder knows. And now someone else does too.