Cara Brookins was left emotionally broken when her second abusive marriage ended. She got well by building her own house, which she did after seeing YouTube videos on how to do it.
The mother of four started looking for a new house in 2007 after being forced to sell the Bryant, Arkansas, home she and her soon-to-be ex shared. At the moment, though, anything the computer programmer analyst could afford was too tiny. Brookins too felt obliged to take action to bring her family back together. She admits, “But I had no idea what that should be.”
Brookins, therefore, came up with the idea to build her own house from the ground up. According to Brookins, 45, “If anyone was in our situation, they wouldn’t do this.” “No one else viewed it this way, and now that I think about it, I understand it sounds crazy.”
One acre of property cost Brookins $20,000, and she obtained a building credit for about $150,000. She then started watching YouTube tutorials to learn how to do things like run a gas line, build a wall, lay a foundation, and install plumbing.
Her children, ages 2 to 17, helped her throughout the nine-month construction of the 3,500-square-foot home. At the time, Drew, who was 15 years old, helped Brookins make the preparations. Jada, who was 11 at the time, transported water from a neighbor’s pond using buckets because there was no running water on the property. She then combined the water with 80-pound sacks of concrete to create the mortar for the foundation.
It felt impossible the entire time, according to Brookins, who worked when the kids were in school. After school, Brookins drove her family to the five-mile-away construction site where she worked late into the night on the new house.
YouTube videos previously were vague and provided numerous solutions to a task. Brookins employed a part-time firefighter with building experience for $25 per hour to help with some of the more challenging tasks. She remembers, “He was a step ahead of us in knowledge.” On March 31, 2009, Brookins and her kids moved into the five-bedroom home. She gave it the name Inkwell Manor in recognition of her desire to become a writer. In the years afterwards, Brookins has written numerous middle grade and young adult books. She has also written a biography titled Rise: How a House Built a Family, which will be released on January 24. Building the house helped Brookins emerge from her depression. We were ashamed that our best option was to construct our own shelter, Brookins adds. “We weren’t really proud of it,” In the end, it proved to be the best thing I could have done for myself. She says, “You can do anything you set your mind to if I, a 110 pound computer programmer, can build a complete house.” Choose one goal and stay with it. Find the big thing you want to do, move slowly in that direction, and take those who also need healing with you. That has a lot of influence.
Everyone Fell for My Charming New Boss, But I Knew Him as My Ex, Who Came Back to Finish What He Started — Story of the Day
Until Ellie fell asleep.
Then, I turned back to Logan. He was sitting on the couch, relaxed like he belonged there.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I whispered.
“Family. This is normal. You’ve just forgotten what it’s like. I’ll remind you.”
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“You have no right.”
“I’m her father. And I will win you back.”
I grabbed my phone.
“I’ll call the police.”
“Go ahead. And tell them you left your daughter alone… while popping painkillers.”
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He pulled a pill bottle out of his pocket with my name on it.
“Remember how you screamed at the office? We’ve got the footage. I installed the cameras.”
“That’s not mine! You planted it!”
“Can you prove it? They’ll believe me. I’m… a role model.”
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“What do you want, Logan?”
“You. And Ellie. Or… lose everything again.”
“You won’t dare! I rebuilt my life from ashes!”
“And I’ll destroy it again. I have enough power.”
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***
I realized there was no protection. The police wouldn’t help. My coworkers were still hypnotized. I had to act alone.
And suddenly, I wasn’t scared anymore. I was angry. Not just for me — for every woman he ever fooled.
But William, seeing my burning eyes, stepped in.
We hatched a plan.
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I created an anonymous page. I posted stories about women who survived emotional abuse. Seemingly fictional. But each one was a piece of the truth. We needed Logan to react.
William used his media skills to target those posts directly at our coworkers. Every one of them saw the stories, including Logan.
A few days passed. William placed a tablet in front of me, showing analytics from the anonymous page we had just launched.
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“Look at this,” he said. “They’re reading. They’re talking. If we keep the pressure, he’ll crack. That’s when we hit record. Let’s take his mask off.”
Logan didn’t know it was us, but he felt it. That afternoon, I saw him in the glass hallway by the elevators. Alone. He thought no one was watching. His fists were clenched. He slammed a folder onto the windowsill.
“Idiots!” I heard him hiss under his breath.
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Logan glanced around, forced a smile back on his face, and walked away like nothing had happened.
He tried to keep the mask, but it no longer fit. People in the office started whispering. And he felt it.
At the significant conference where I was to speak, Logan sat in the front row. Smiling. As always. Pretending.
Finally, I stepped onto the stage. My hands were damp.
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I knew one wrong word could cost me everything — my job, my daughter, and my sanity.
But if I stay silent, he wins. Again.
I looked out into the crowd. I saw William in the back.
I have such a support system. We’ll win.
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I began my speech.
“We’re here to talk about strength. About women who survived. Who made it through darkness…”
I paused.
“And about those who pretend to be the light but are the darkness itself. Let’s talk about the men who live among us — perfect on the outside. But if you take off the mask…”
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I looked at Logan. He didn’t even shift.
“I once met such a man. No one but me saw what lay beneath. But today… I have the chance to show you.”
I played the video footage from my home. Every second felt like an hour. I kept my eyes on the screen, not daring to look at the crowd.
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Then I heard it. His voice. The voice I had once loved — at that moment, pure venom:
“And I’ll destroy it again. I have enough power.”
This is it. This is how I finally take back my power.
Suddenly, Logan jumped up.
“It’s edited! It’s… a lie!”
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“Is it, sweetheart? When you reappeared in my life, I took precautions. Spent quite a bit on a modern surveillance system. Video, audio. And today, it was worth every penny.”
Logan snapped and lunged at me.
“No one will believe you! You’re nothing without me! You were nothing before me, and you’ll be nothing after I’m done!”
His wild eyes, his voice, his screams — all recorded. Everyone saw it.
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“You’ll regret exposing me. Even if they cancel me — I’ll still win. Because deep down, you know I made you.”
William was there, waiting. He stepped in and stopped Logan.
“Great headline for tomorrow’s paper,” William muttered, though his jaw was clenched.
The mask was off. Logan’s image crumbled. An investigation began. On my way out, I passed Mia in the hallway. She didn’t say a word. Just looked at the floor.
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***
That evening, I picked Ellie up from her friend’s house. She ran to me and hugged me so tight I couldn’t breathe.
“You look like a superhero, Mommy,” she whispered.
And at that moment, I believed her.
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I quit the next day. Walked out of the office in silence. Head held high.
Today, I run my own project — a small women’s center. It’s just two rooms above a bakery and a second-hand couch I found online.
But every week, women walk in who remind me of who I used to be — scared, silenced, surviving.
And now, I help them remember they deserve more than survival. They deserve to live.
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