Beth almost turned back twice before she even reached the small wooden gate with the chipped pale green paint. The crease between her brows felt permanent at this point, as though carved out of stone. Lips thinned, her gums ached from how hard she ground her molars together.
Attempting to compose herself, Beth drew in a deep breath and immediately regretted it. The potent smell of stale cheap beer and something sour baking in the afternoon heat assaulted her senses right down to her stomach.
An involuntary shudder traveled down her spine. God, she hated this place. She and the girls didn’t live in a fancy suburb with pine trees and rose bushes, but it was still a hundred times better than this dump.
The neighborhood hadn’t changed in the seven years since she’d finally packed up and e
