KAIA

Saturday mornings used to be peaceful. No alarm clock, no rush to get dressed for work, no chance of running into Vincent's brooding presence in the hallway. Today should feel like freedom, but instead, I'm sitting in the passenger seat of my Honda while Mom slowly makes her way from the house to the car, each step a visible effort.

The front door still hangs slightly crooked on its hinges from Vincent's dramatic entrance yesterday. I had to call a handyman this morning, but he can't come ...