Chapter 9 - The House on the Hill
Spring returned to New England.
The snow melted away, revealing rich green grass, blooming tulips, and clear blue skies.
I stood in the driveway of the old Vance estate. The massive black wrought-iron gates that had once felt like the bars of a prison cell were being unbolted and hauled away on the back of a flatbed construction truck.
Demolition crews were parked along the gravel road. Heavy excavators stood ready on the lawn.
After the bankruptcy liquidation, I had purchased the physical property from the federal asset forfeiture pool for a fraction of its value—not to live in it, but to destroy it.
Marcus walked up beside me, wearing jeans and an casual jacket, holding two paper cups of hot coffee. He handed one to me.
"You sure you want to tear it down?" Marcus asked, looking up at the grand marble mansion that had housed so much pain. "You could sell it for eight million dollars."
I took a sip of the warm coffee, looking up at the high bathroom window on the second floor where the brass vanity used to stand.
"Some places are built on poison, Marcus," I said softly. "You can't clean poison. You have to burn it out."
Marcus smiled, placing his arm around my shoulder. "Fair point."
I turned to the construction foreman standing nearby with a digital tablet. "Start with the master suite."
The foreman nodded into his radio. "Bring in the wrecking ball."
A massive steel crane swung its heavy iron ball through the air.
CRASH!
The second-floor stone wall shattered inward, sending a cloud of white dust and stone debris cascading down onto the lawn. The bathroom, the vanity, the dark closet—all of it collapsed into a pile of rubble under the bright afternoon sun.
May you like
I watched the dust settle. I didn't feel sadness. I didn't feel anger. I felt a deep, profound sense of peace washing over my soul.
The house was gone. The family that had tried to destroy me was locked away in iron cells. The nightmare was finally, completely over.
