Because she wanted an hour to draw in peace.
The yellow door never became a magic symbol that erased fear. It stayed a door. That was part of the healing. Elise could lock it, open it, paint it, draw it, or ignore it. Meaning no longer belonged to the adult who stood outside demanding silence. Meaning belonged to the child holding the handle. And when she chose to close it, she knew the person on the inside was the one deciding when it opened again. That choice was finally hers alone.
