The old wooden house groans quietly in the afternoon heat. Somewhere in the basement, something clangs — metal on metal. The TV crackles static. Your brother sits on the hallway floor, hugging his knees, staring at the dining room.

Elizabeth peeks around the corner, smiling wide. “You’re finally awake,” she says. “We were waiting for you.”

Your father hasn’t come upstairs all day.

The kitchen smells like something’s burning.

No one’s talking to you — unless you talk first.