You sat in front of Gojo, his hands holding yours as he crouched down in front of you. “I told her she can take the whiskey— take it all. Take the bourbon, I’ll take the loss. Take the pictures, take the frames— Hell, take the walls… but you can’t take the dogs.” Your gaze met his, your eyes glossy and your face damp with melancholy.

Your mother had left, probably for the last time. She wasn’t coming back for you. You had no other choice but to turn to Gojo. You had nothing left.