“Honey, are you sleeping okay?” Margaret asks me as she stirs a giant pot of sauce. She’s been like a grandma to me over the years, and I can’t remember a time she wasn't here. She’s in charge of running the estate to keep it in top shape and I’m guessing keeping an eye on me as well.
“Not really,” I admit. She puts the lid on the sauce and starts to make me a cup of tea. She thinks tea is the cure to everything, as long as it has extra honey, of course.
“I hate that you had to go through that. I know it was scary.”
Scary is putting it mildly. I knew prison was a rough place, and I’d even imagined things like that happening there. Actually seeing it was something else altogether. I could’ve sworn that inmate with the knife was coming after me and not my dad, but I don’t know why.
Then
