I sat at the long, polished dining table, the room colder than the steel bars surrounding me. Shadows clung to the corners, the oppressive darkness soaking into the walls, a constant reminder of the house I grew up in. A house full of silent demands, of rules I was never meant to break. The kind of house where a single misstep—one that didn’t fit the mold they created for you—could tear everything apart.
My fingers drummed against the dark wood of the table in rhythm with my heart, a constant thrum of anxiety. I hadn’t been able to get my phone. I hadn’t been able to let Grey know what had happened, why I wasn’t there with her. The last thing I saw of her was the panic in her eyes when she left that morning. The confusion. I wasn’t there to reassure her, to tell her that it was all going
