–Livana–
Behind my sunglasses, I watched Laura unravel. Her sobs came like torn fabric, ragged and raw — trauma worn openly across her face. She shouldn't be here. She shouldn't see this. But of course she would. Of course she would see everything in time.
Damon reached for both of her hands while she tried to pull herself together. My attention remained on my sister, but the house had other music: Grandma Olivia battering Carrie and Father with words and physical. Father doing everything to shield Carrie. I should have been pierced by pain, but I felt nothing — not the kind of nothing that's empty, but the kind I cultivate: a cool, deliberate absence. Grandpa Reagan had slipped away, probably to fetch a gun. I turned my head a fraction; I didn't need sight to know where Logan stood. His footsteps answered mine — light, precise, a shadow that followed a shadow.
"What should I do then?" Damon asked.
