The morning sun streamed through the windows of George's Chicago apartment, but the light felt hollow and cold.
George sat at the kitchen table, staring at his phone. The screen showed seventeen missed calls from Arthur. He hadn't answered a single one. He couldn't. Every time he thought about his brother, he saw Sarah's broken body in that hospital bed. He heard her whispered words: "Arthur did this to me."
Sam walked into the kitchen. She was still in her robe, her hair tousled from sleep. She looked at George with deep concern.
"You didn't sleep again."
"I couldn't. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Sarah's face. I heard her voice." George's hands were shaking. "My brother did that to her. My brother almost killed her."
Sam sat down across from him. "George. You need to talk to Ar
