97 Fight For Abby

(Winona)

The morning feels grim as I stand inside my townhouse entryway, my wrists and ankles shackled, waiting for my transportation to the Santa Monica courthouse.

To be honest, I’m grateful to be going out despite the circumstances. A week of being confined and only talking either about weather and superficial stuff or things that affect me on a life-or-death level, has been exhausting.

Then keeping up the pretense of Phillip and I. But we’ve done it and we are all going to hear what the judge has to say about where Abby is best to live for the time being. I’m more nervous about this than anything.

The cold metal digs into my skin, and I feel it in my bones. Sheila Hobbs, my parole officer, stands nearby, her expression a mix of empathy and stern resolve.

“We’ll get through this trip, Winona,” she says, her voice firm but kind. “Just follow my lead and stay calm.”

I nod, trying to muster the strength to keep my emotions in check. “Thanks, Sheila. I’ll do my best.”

As we make our wa