“Dad, you don’t have to do this,” Tiffany finally said, her voice a fragile whisper.

I paused, my hand on the doorknob. “I do, sweetheart. Sometimes standing up for yourself means walking away.”

The door closed behind me with a quiet finality that echoed down the empty street as I made my way to a small motel on the outskirts of town. It was a modest place, nothing fancy, but it offered the solitude I needed. The days slipped by slowly, each one marked by quiet reflection and a sense of newfound freedom.