Two days passed in silence.
Damian came and went at odd hours. He barely spoke. When he did, it was clipped orders. Don't leave. Don't answer the door. Don't watch the news.
I obeyed. Not because I was afraid, but because I didn't know what else to do.
I called Milly every evening. She talked about her new art teacher, the girl who sat next to her at lunch, the dream she had about a flying horse. I listened and laughed in the right places and pretended my heart wasn't breaking from missing her.
"Gracie, when are you coming to see me?" she asked on the second night.
"Soon, baby. I promise."
"You always say soon."
"I know." I pressed my forehead against the cold window. "But this time I mean it."
She didn't answer right away. Then, quietly, "I drew you a new picture. It's us at the b
