Jessa

The house was too quiet the next morning.

Not peaceful quiet — the kind that comes after a storm, when everything feels like it’s still vibrating from the damage.

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, my head pounding from another sleepless night. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw it all again — Mom’s shocked face, Jackson’s voice cracking as he yelled, the way the air had felt so heavy I could barely breathe.

Now it was Sunday morning, and the silence felt like ...