My lungs felt like they were filled with dry sand. Every breath was a struggle as I stared at that red and sky-blue scarf. The fabric seemed to pulse with a mocking energy. My mother was gone. My daughters—my eleven-month-old miracles—were gone. The silence in the house was no longer a sanctuary; it was a scream.

"Lina!" Damon roared, his voice cracking as he fumbled with his phone. "Call Lina! Tell her to get here now!"

I didn't ask why. I grabbed my phone with trembling fingers and ...