Three days later.

It was almost evening. The house was quiet. Too quiet. Not like it had ever been lively, but it felt worse than it had ever been.

I moved slowly around the kitchen, trying to balance my weight without putting too much pressure on my sore leg. My wrist still throbbed every time I moved it, wrapped tightly in the bandage Dr. Aldrich had carefully applied days ago. I remembered the way he had looked at me—not with pity, but with something deeper, something I couldn’t quite ...