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So I broke another promise and clicked open her door.

Tiptoed inside.

She toiled on the bed, her covers a mess and twisted around her legs. Hair a dark sea that churned around her.

I didn’t wake her from it.

Instead, I grabbed a throw pillow and tossed it to the hard floor next to her bed and laid down, then reached up and took her hand.

Held her through whatever she was going through, knowing this was as close as I could allow myself to get and knowing it would never fucking be enough.

SIX

TREVAN

TWELVE YEARS OLD

Trevan tried to keep his footsteps quiet as he edged down the hall.

The light was dim. Every window in the house covered by curtains, even though it was the middle of the day.

His heart beat super-fast. Hard at his chest as he listened to the television drone from the living room.

He stalled at the end, still hidden in the shadows. Trying to amp himself up.

He had to do it.

He couldn’t stay cooped up in his room for a second longer.

He clutched his football to his chest. The one the nice old lady across the street had given him at Christmas.

She said she had an extra, and he was pretty sure she was lying, but he’d never had one before and he really wanted it.

So, he’d taken it and now it was pretty much his favorite possession, even though he didn’t have a whole lot of those.

He gulped down the gross feeling that crawled his throat and started along the backside of the living room toward the front door.

He kept his attention on the stained carpet that covered the floor and prayed that no one noticed him.

He had almost made it when his mother’s scratchy voice hit his ears.

“Where the hell do you think you’re goin’?”

His shoulders shot up to his ears, and he tried to stand up tall and not cower as he turned to where she lay across the couch.

The top half of her draped across the lap of a man who’d been staying there the last three nights.

Her face got lit up by the show that flashed on the screen. Colors jumping all over her hollow cheeks and sunken eyes.

“I was just going outside to play ball,” he said.

He hated how small the words sounded when they came out of his mouth.

“You’re supposed to be cleaning your room, you lazy, worthless piece of shit.”

He didn’t mean to scan the room.

It was impulsive, he guessed. The way he couldn’t help but look at the mess that had been made since she’d forced him to clean the living room that morning.