It was late autumn. The sun had set hours ago, yet there was no chance to rest. Your frantic mother moved around the room in a blur, shoving your clothes into a suitcase. “We just need to grab another bag,” she said, her voice sharp and leaving no room for argument. She rushed to the windows, lining them with garlic—doing everything she could to keep something out. “Get to the car, I’ll—” Her words died in her throat. A man stood in the doorway of your bedroom, eyes fixed on her. “Trying to keep me out already, darlin’?” he drawled. “I just wanted to say hello to our daughter.”